Beatrice Book I: In Destiny's Hold
by Ben Alexander
Summary: Devastated at the death of her mother, enter Jacqueline: a woman with whom Beatrice's father becomes obesessed with... Beatrice despises Jacqueline from the beginning, but there is more to her than it seems... OTHER THAN PROLOGUE, NO MORE REVISIONS YET.
1. Prologue: July 2008

**Beatrice  
****Book I:  
In Destiny's Hold**

Prologue: July, 2008

**Joanna Horowitz,  
****December 19th, 1970  
****to  
****April 17th, 2000  
**_here lies a loving wife and mother,  
__she will be deeply missed by all who knew her._

This is how my mother's tombstone reads verbatim. Although I had stared at it and had read it constantly in the weeks following her demise in order to get myself more acquainted with her fate, I found myself reading it again. Either out of respect for her memory or to redeem myself for lack of visitation these past several years, I felt a great unwavering sorrow in the pit of my empty stomach.

I had come to the cemetery nearly five years after having left my world to see what had changed there-- if anything, and to visit the graves of my parents before I was to leave once again. I knew that time was my enemy as I had very little left. Although it was a sad occasion that conjured up many images and memories within me, it was nonetheless a happy one as I had made a somewhat triumphant return home. I was alive-- scarred, yes, by everything I had endured within the last decade, but it also had made me stronger on the whole. I had returned in order to begin defending the world I loved so from people whose aims were to destroy it, and others of the like.

The wind whistled through the trees; a low, mournful tune. I shivered despite the sweater I'd wrapped around me as a precaution and returned my attention to the grave. "I'm back, Mom," I tried to smile but settled for a slight frown, "I had to come back to tell you how much I love you-- still. And that I'm sorry for what's happened: to Dad-- to me. And above all, to tell you that I'll get him… I'll get the no-good bastard who did this-- the one who put you in this hole."

At this point, the wind ceased its howling, and silence fell. Words jumbled in my throat but I decided it best to stifle them-- for now. I would try to return. A single tear fell from my eye and lazily slid down my cheek, and onto the green grass that covered the spot where she was buried. "I love you, Mom," and feeling awkward, I bent my head slightly forward to kiss the tombstone; a lousy substitute for the cheek that had always felt like spring.

_It'll be dark soon, _I realized due to the sudden darkening of the skies, _You must leave before dark…_

Still sniffling, I turned to the tombstone beside it, expecting my father's… I was, however, mistaken. It was my grandmother's, which meant that in the near five years I had been gone, I had lost her as well. I scanned the tombstone; she had died sometime in 2004. My father's mother, she had died sometime in 2004. The only family member I had was lost to me. I was completely alone now. No matter. Maybe it was better this way; knowing that no one else I loved could be added to the growing list of the dead. She had loved my mother as her own; it was no wonder she'd requested to be buried near her in death. Poor woman; she'd never been quite the same.

I glanced at the tombstone on my mother's other side; already knowing whose name was written in that unmistakable scrawling, dead print-- just as dead as the rotting corpse that now lay within the tomb. However, I had to see it. I had to make sure. As predicted, it belonged to my father, and it read:

**James Horowitz  
****September 14th, 1968  
****to  
****July 22nd, 2003**

Unlike my mother's this tombstone was completely new and alien to me. The marble on which the epitaph had been carved was more than half the size of its neighbor. That figured, as his second wife had squandered away most of his money during their unexpected courtship. I reached out a slightly trembling hand, and touched the marble. It felt cold as ice, and seeing it now brought about such a great wave of emotions that I cried out-- as if from fear-- as if from _pain. _I leaned over, and kissed the tombstone; the only way I was sure of how to say goodbye…

The sun sank deeper beneath the trees; the day sure had flitted away quickly. If I wanted to accomplish anything, I should leave before night smothered me like a dark cloud. Before making another successful disappearance, there was one slight imperative matter that should be taken care of.

I readied myself for the worse; expecting it, I looked at the tombstone on his other side. It belonged to none other than _me. _I was legally dead. Tears rolled down my eyes without my being able to control them. Without predicting it, nearly everything had changed here. But it did not matter; my supposed death was of little importance to the journey ahead of me. As long as I was truly alive, things had the possibility of righting themselves in the end. I did not need anyone or anything to guide me now. I had myself. That was enough.

And so, I stood up; looked towards the setting sun in the distant western skies, turned my back on the row of tombstones, and left the cemetery headed to-- to-- God knows where.


	2. Death Rears its Ugly Head

_Chapter 1: Death Rears its Ugly Head _

I was a mere eleven years old when my mother died.

On the day that my mother died, I was totally inexperienced with everything that comes with death; the pain, the mourning, and the anger towards something you can barely understand-- if you can ever understand it. When she passed, I was too old to be completely unaware of it, but far too young to be able to comprehend it in such a way that only comes with age. I had never lost anyone before my mother... No one at all. That's probably why her death sticks out the most in my mind. That's probably why I'll _always _remember it the most; as human beings, our first experience with death should never come when we are children-- and when it's the large magnitude of actually losing a _parent... _well, that makes it all the more unbearable.

My mother's death is what mainly began everything that has affected me up until womanhood; she was twenty-nine years old, while my father was thirty-three; she being far too young to expire, and he being _much _too young to lose her-- his _soul-mate_ as he had so lovingly called her all throughout my life.

Afterwards, I would be asked by many how it had felt to have lost a parent at such an early age in my life; whenever asked, I would simply not answer, or well up, and start crying-- reliving the awful moment all over again when I had realized that I would never be with one of the only people who really mattered in my life again... But then again, had I the strength or courage to have answered such a question, I am unsure if I would have been able to do it justice, for who can answer such a question when one is so inexperienced with matters such as life and death as I was?

For death came to her so suddenly-- as if by curse.

I suppose that her death was far more easy than what most will inevitably experience when their life is at last ended, for she passed away in her sleep; a death I hope was quite peaceful-- one that would not cause much pain to such a good woman. I like to think that her heart just ceased its precious beating, and if she had been dreaming, her mind just went blank, and she must have thought her death a mere dream.

It was a Saturday morning the day that she died; as soon as my eyes snapped open, I immediately bolted out of bed, quickly dressed, and crept down the hall; attempting to ignore my father's loud snores that were coming from behind the closed door that led to the bedroom he and my mother had always shared; I walked down the long staircase, and soon reached the landing; expecting the enticing aroma of hot, steaming pancakes to be wafting from within the kitchen-- as I always did, but there came none.

"Mom?" I called out, pushing the door to the kitchen open, "Mom, are you making breakfast?" I asked, peering inside... my mother's presence was absent from the kitchen, _Odd... _I thought, backing away from the doorway, and letting the door gently slam shut, _Where is she? _I wondered.

For some strange and altogether unfathomable reason-- although it would make much more sense when I became older, I panicked; my entire body tensed up, "Mom!" I screamed, as I felt my feet acting on their own accord; they began to run back towards the staircase, "Mom!" I screamed again, as I took the stairs two at a time, and my heart continued to beat faster still, "Mom!" I repeated one final time, as I wrenched the door to my parent's bedroom open; waking my father in the process, "What's wrong?" he asked, groggily; giving me a look that made his entire face look like a large question mark; his eyes glanced at the bedside table beside him, "It's--"

"Dad," I whispered, "where's Mom?"

"Right here, honey," he replied, pointing to the lifeless body that lay beside him.

I ran over to their bed, and sort of pulled my mother's corpse out of it, "Mom?" I repeated, staring into her closed eyes that would never open again; she did not respond, and it was only after a few seconds of staring at her pale face that we realized that the woman my father and I had loved so dearly was now gone forever.

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I stared up at the ceiling of my bedroom as I cried the following evening, _Why her? _I wondered, bitterly, as an owl hooted in an oak tree miles away; I had been asking the question to myself all day long, and I knew that although I would never be able to answer it, it was all I could think about.

I rolled over in bed, and tried concentrating on my bedspread to try to fall asleep; but instead, my thoughts returned to the fact that my mother's body was in a morgue on the other side of town; I shuddered gently, and began sobbing again.

_It's not fair, _I thought, _Why her?_

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_Why her? _I wondered again, as my alarm clock rang the following morning, and I was forced to get out of bed, and attempt to force something down so that I wouldn't become any sicker than I already was.

I stared into the mirror, and didn't bother fixing up my face, although dark bags were under my eyes, and my hair was stringy, and frightening-looking; my eyes suddenly darted to a small framed photograph of my mother and me at the beach-- a photograph that had only been taken about six months ago; my eyes welled up with tears as I realized that I would never be able to spend time with my mother again.

"Mom," I murmured gently, crying, turning the photograph to the side so that I would not see it any longer; I sobbed heavily; my shoulders shook, and my face felt damp and and strange.

I wanted her to be somewhere wonderful-- if there was such a thing as an afterlife, but I was doubtful on whether or not her soul had lived on; I had never been a very religious person, and yet I tried to keep the hope that I would see my mother again one day.

_Please let it be true, _I thought.

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I stared into the bowl of cereal in front of me, and quickly pushed it aside, "I can't eat anything," I whispered to my father; my voice still full of anguish and anger at the death of my mother, "I just can't eat if she can't."

My father slowly nodded, and stared into the full mug of dark coffee he clutched in his hands, "But she would have wanted us to go on with our lives," he whispered, as fresh tears began rolling down his cheeks as well, and into the black liquid.

"It's not fair," I whimpered, realizing that my father too had heavy lids under his eyes, "Why did she have to die so soon?"

"I don't know," he whispered, wiping the tears away from his cheeks, "But we have to try and live without her... We _have _to."

And his words seemed to make my mother's death much more real and final.

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Her funeral was held the following week; the doctors who performed the autopsy informed my father and me that her death had been caused by a "Massive Heart-Attack" over the telephone; when my father told me this, I felt much skepticism, "Mom was really healthy," I kept on insisting over and over again that day.

I do not remember very much about the service... What sticks out the most in my mind is the burial; I remember shuddering as the long, slim black coffin was lowered into the gaping hole inside of the ground-- her new home-- her _grave; _I recall my grandmother's screams of anguish as dirt was tossed into the hole, and I remember shuddering once again when I realized that my once so lively, and loving mother would grow cold, and rot inside that deep hole...


	3. The Black Cat

_Chapter 2: The Black Cat_

"She's dead," I repeated for what seemed like the millionth time that day alone; still hardly believing the words that were flowing from out of my red mouth.

"Oh, that's too bad, Beatrice," my seventh-grade homeroom teacher said, quite unsympathetically, as she handed the small note back to me which explained my week's absence. It was a Monday morning; the funeral had been held the previous day, "Just ask Travis for the work you have missed... He's in all of your classes, after all."

I felt my pale face burning bright red-- I was _seething; _here I was practically _crying, _and that fat bitch actually had the nerve to be sitting there at her heavily polished desk, worrying about my fucking grades, for God's sake! _Who does she think she is? _I wondered, angrily, as I sat back down at my desk, behind my best friend Carla; she turned around to give me a sympathetic smile, and I returned it, as she turned her back to me, and tried to concentrate on Mrs. Johnson, who was now droning on about some tryouts for the upcoming spring play.

I stared at a blank sheet of paper in front of me, and could immediately tell that I just would not be able to concentrate that day in school-- maybe I'd _never _be able to concentrate again; I sighed, and closed my eyes; I had not slept in over a week, _Maybe it'd be better if I just--_

My thoughts were suddenly interrupted as I felt a strong hand tug on one of my two black braids, "What?" I snapped, angrily; opening my eyes, and turning around to face the culprit.

My glaring blue eyes fell upon the heavily pimpled face of Travis Smith-- how I hated the little bastard! Ooh! Had I not been in school, he would have had a bloody nose from me venting out all my anger on it...

His ugly face contorted into a twisted smile, "So," he whispered; his eyes sparking with malice, "your ole' mum kicked the bucket, aye'?"

"Shut up," I whispered, angrily, wishing that I could wrap my trembling hands around his throat...

"What?" he asked, as if he had not heard me.

"Shut up," I repeated; louder this time, as I felt my temper rising.

"Excusée moi?" he asked, in a mocking French accent.

This was the last straw; I had always hated him, but I could not believe he could be so cold and cruel-- unafraid of the possible consequences, I let everything out, **_"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" _**I roared directly into his face.

"Beatrice!" Mrs. Johnson screamed; her voice equally as loud as mine had been, as all of the students' head jerked around to face me... I blushed again; a deep maroon color this time, "Yes?" I asked, sweetly, as I turned around to face her once again.

"Come up to my desk this instant!" her voice was squeaky; annoyingly high-pitched when she was angry-- not needing to be asked twice, I stood up from my desk, and stalked over to her desk, "Faster than that, young lady," she hissed, and I obeyed; quickening my pace to avoid any further conflict.

When I had at last approached her purple face, she lowered her voice to ensure that only I could hear her, "Miss Horowitz, I will not tolerate profanity in my classroom."

"No duh," I hissed under my breath.

"Young lady!" she yelled, as she pulled a yellow sticky note from a tall pile that stood in the center of her desk.

"But he provoked me," I insisted, angrily.

"Be that as it may," she whispered, as she scribbled a note, "You can take this up to the principal's office, and see what she has to say on the matter," she held out the note for me to take.

I rudely snatched the note out of her hands, and read what she had written.

**BEATRICE USED THE "F"  
****WORD IN CLASS. PLEASE  
****SEE THAT SHE IS DISCIPLINED  
****FOR HER ACTIONS.**

_Mrs. Leslie Johnson_

_Are you kidding me? _I thought, stuffing the note into my jacket-pocket, as I headed back towards my desk.

"Asshole," I muttered to Travis, as I snatched up my textbooks, and stalked out of the now relatively normal classroom.

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Another three months went by in a flash, and before I knew it, my twelfth birthday came, and as it turned out, my birthday happened to fall upon this day as it had a few times before in the past.

I stared into the mirror at my pale, yet happy face; I had finally begun to accept my mother's death-- although it had been quite difficult for the first two months; life at home had begun to go easier for both my father and me, although every now and then, my father would go into such a depression that I would be unable to bring him out of it for days; my mother's death had changed us both, but we were trying to go on with our lives; I had begun to laugh and joke around with my friends as I always had before.

I finished buttoning up my blouse, and tied my black hair back in two tight braids. Today, to celebrate my twelfth birthday, and my outstanding report-card, my father and I were going out to dinner on the other side of town; I had laughed after having showed my father the report-card. I had gotten all A's, but in Homeroom... I had gotten a zero in citizenship... That bitch, Mrs. Johnson had probably thought that my father would freak out after having seen the zero, but my father didn't give a damn-- he had other things on his mind, after all; he had been working later hours to make up for the lack of income from my mother's death, yet was always able to be at my school on time to pick me up; I loved my father for trying so hard, and yet there was a great void in my life from losing my mother-- a void that would most likely never be filled again.

After I had dressed, I went downstairs, and opened the door that led to the front yard; it was July the first, and I buttoned up my coat, as it was chilly outside, and growing dark, due to the gray clouds that were rolling in from the east; _Odd, _I thought, _A storm in the beginning of July? _My father was soon beside me, "Hey," he greeted, "Hi," I replied, offering him a warm smile; I shivered gently, as he fished the car-keys out of his pocket, and clicked a little button; the lights on our car flashed read; the doors had unlocked. We opened our respective doors, and climbed inside.

We pulled out of the driveway, and began driving away; houses flashed by in a blur as we zoomed by them. My father clicked on the radio, and some guy began droning on and on about the horrors of child obesity in America. Suddenly, just as we came to the end of our street, a high-pitched scream broke the silence of night; my father slammed on the brakes, and we stopped directly in the middle of the road.

"What the hell was that?" I asked, softly.

He shrugged his shoulders, and we sped on; the child obesity report was promptly replaced with the song _Midnight Hour_; although I could not explain why, I felt something watching us as we drove that night; halfway to the restaurant, I heard a small hiss escape from a nearby bush for I did not wish for my father to think I was hearing things.

Suddenly, I saw a cat; its black fur smooth and sleeky... I watched it dart out from some bushes on the side of the road, and then stop directly in front of our path.

I had been a cat lover all my life, "Dad!" I screamed.

He slammed on the brakes for a second time, but this time it was much too late; our tires slowly rolled over the cat's body... crushing it-- _killing _it; we had hit the poor cat...

We opened our doors, and darted outside; our footsteps pounding loudly on the gravel in the cold silence that was moonlight. We got down on our hands and knees, and peered underneath the car, but despite out worst fears, the cat had disappeared, and we couldn't help wondering all throughout dinner what had become of it...


	4. The Lady Cloaked in Black

_Chapter 3: The Lady Cloaked in Black _

It was exactly one week after our strange encounter with the ghostly black cat, but we still had not forgotten about it. There was an awful storm that evening; the one I had seen approaching the week before had at last decided to manifest. Rain pelted our roof, while thunder and lighting boomed outside; shaking our windows, and just at about Midnight, the unexpected occurred; the lights suddenly went out without any warning, plunging my father and me into total darkness. As we scrambled about the room, searching for spare candles or flashlights, a knock suddenly came at the door.

I froze at the spot one which I had been standing upon; _Who could _that _be? _I wondered, as I felt my father's hand upon my shoulder, "Bea, I'm going to find out who's at the door... Just stay right where you are."

I nodded, as his footsteps pounded away to the door that led to the outside world.

"Who's there?" he called out; just loud enough to penetrate the loud sound of the falling rain.

"Me!" a shrill voice answered from the other side of the door.

"What do you need?" he called out.

There was a slight pause as the woman began to answer him, "My car broke down a few blocks away," she answered, calmly, "I need some shelter from the storm."

There was a second slight moment of silence as my father debated on whether or not to allow the mysterious woman to enter the house.

"Please," she called from outside, "I don't have anywhere to go."

I shook my head at my father's stupidity as he turned the doorknob, and the door creaked open to reveal what lay on the other side; I could not see her very well; she appeared to be a dark silhouette against a rainy background, _What the hell? _I wondered.

"Thanks," the woman said, taking a few steps inside, "I'm lucky I found you; all of the other houses... When I knocked, no one answered."

"Oh."

Suddenly, as fast as they had gone, the lights came back on; the room was thrown into a heavenly and strange golden glow; I opened my eyes wider as my father led the strange woman into the room that I had been waiting for him in.

As they approached, I got a better look at the woman. She appeared to be in her late-twenties or early thirties; high cheekbones, sparkling blue eyes, and a long plait of golden blonde-hair done up in a ponytail-- now soaking wet, but clearly beautiful when dry. Her face was utter perfection; not a wrinkle, line, or blemish could be seen, and she was as skinny as a stick... There was no denying it; she looked _gorgeous. _She was dressed totally in black; from heat to toe. The only thing that clashed with her outfit was a purse-- she clutched a Louie Vuitton bag, now wet from the rain. She smiled at me; revealing a perfectly white, and sparkling set of teeth.

I halfheartedly returned the smile, "Are you Beatrice?" she asked, coming towards me.

"Yes," I replied, slowly backing away; frankly freaked out by the fact that she had known my name, "And who are you?" I added as an afterthought.

"Oh, how _silly _of me!" she exclaimed, turning around to face my father once again, and taking his outstretched, and shaking hand, "I am Jacqueline, and you are...?" she asked, staring deeply into my father's eyes with her own.

I could instantly tell that my father had been love struck by her-- the _bitch! _I had already taken an immediate disliking to her; _Who'd the bitch think she was? Waltzing in here, and flirting with my father not even six months after my mom's death? _

"J-James," he stammered, allowing her perfect hand to leave his, although I could tell that he wished nothing of the sort.

"You've got a_ lovely _home here!" she gushed, surveying the living-room with its antique furniture, and paintings that my mother had done back in college, "I live out in the city, and I've always dreamt of living in a place like this."

"I've lived here for about ten years," my dad was saying, grinning from ear to ear at being able to please her.

"So, would you mind my staying here for the night?" she asked, after a long pause in which I kept on biting my tongue to keep myself from smacking her.

"Of course," he replied, once again taking her hand in his, "I'll show you to your bedroom."

_"Money hungry bitch," _I muttered under my breath, hoping that it was all one huge nightmare, as he led her away. And once again, I felt like screaming. And I felt like ripping the bitch's plait of blonde hair directly out of her scalp, and strangling her with it; since she had ruined my life-- well, at least for one night...

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I awoke the following morning to find that the storm had cleared, and that the previous evening-- and all of the tragedy that had ensued had _not _just been a dream; I found Jacqueline lurking around in the bathroom when I went in to brush my hair, "Morning, Beatrice," she greeted cheerfully, pulling her hair back.

"Hi," I murmured, _Why can't she just leave already? _I wondered, trying to give her an equally annoying smile, "Where's my dad?" I asked.

"Oh, James went out to get something for lunch-- It's nearly noon," she added to my expression of misunderstanding, "you know sleeping in like that is one of the first signs of total laziness."

"Is it now?" I asked, rolling my eyes.

"I'm sorry if that was rude of me," she laughed, "James and I were up all night, talking about things."

"Were you now?" I asked, through gritted teeth.

She nodded, "He truly is a great man, your father..."

"Isn't he?" I asked, _Why don't you just marry him then? _I wondered, "I've gotta go," I lied, turning my back to her.

"You and he seem very close," she went on, "so sad to have been widowed at such an early age-- It must have been very hard for you two after your mother died."

"What?" I whispered, stopping in my tracks once again, and turning around to face her."

"He told me all about Joanna-- Do you miss her often?"

I had never talked about my mother with _anyone, _but as I stared into her wide eyes, I felt the urge to answer her-- to finally confide in someone after months of trying to keep everything in, "Yes," I answered, as tears filled my eyes, "always."

"Oh, poor dear... I didn't mean to pry," she held out her arms, and began walking towards me, "I--" but she interrupted, by embracing me.

She pulled away after a few seconds-- although it seemed much longer, "I'm so sorry for you," she whispered, patting me gently on the head as she would a dog, "it's just that I never knew my own mother."

"Oh," I said, lamely; wondering if there was a chance that I had been wrong about her, "Can I brush your hair?" she asked, eying it.

I slowly nodded; unsure if her maternal urges could be trusted; she pulled me by my arm back into the bathroom, and we stood directly in front of the mirror together; she took a brush to my hair, and I winced in pain a bit as she began pulling it through, "You know, you really are a pretty little thing."

"Thank you," I murmured.

"You are pretty... But, then again, you could afford to take some better care of yourself-- You're practically a young woman, and you dress like a slob, for God's sake."

_Is she being serious? _I wondered, annoyed, and so, I had been right in assuming that Jacqueline was no more than a shallow empty shell of a human being; as quickly as I had begun to trust her, the moment had gone, "I cannot believe you," and, I pulled away from her, and fled from the room.

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The next evening, Jacqueline was still gracing us with her presence; it made me sick watching my father staring at her breasts or her perfect face... _It made me sick! _

To thank my father for his 'hospitality,' Jacqueline decided that she would cook us all up an absolutely 'exquisite' dinner (since she had spent two years in Culinary School.) I watched her with bated breath as she boiled water in my _mother's_ pot, cut onions and peppers with my _mother's_ knives, and tossed a sickening looking salad with my _mother's_ tongs.

All throughout dinner, I gritted my teeth in great annoyance as I listened to their conversation. I didn't even bother touching the plate of lasagna, salad, and garlic bread in front of me, for knowing Jacqueline, it would be a totally disgusting meal, and the lasagna looked as if it had been overcooked by _at least _an hour.

I stared at my father, and shook my head sadly, what did he see in her, anyways? For all he knew, that seemingly perfect face of hers was full of Botox.

"What's the matter, Beatrice?" Jacqueline suddenly asked, bringing me out of my deep thoughts, "Don't you like your dinner?"

I stared at her; restraining the urge to laugh, by gulping down some of my Diet Coke, "It's great," I lied.

"Oh, no!" she exclaimed, melodramatically, as tears-- _tears!_ filled her blue eyes, "You don't like my cooking?" she asked, obviously trying to make a scene, and I watched with a bit of triumph as she began to cry.

"I think it's great, baby," my father suddenly spoke up, as he nearly choked to death on a large chunk of onion in his plate of salad; I snorted at this site, "So, Jacqueline... When exactly are you _leaving?" _I asked, trying to sound casual, after the blonde bitch had calmed down long enough to speak.

"I'm not sure. James has said that he wants me to stay here forever... You're so sweet," she added to my father, "but I'll probably be going back home tomorrow... Why...?"

"Oh, no reason," I hissed, under my breath, as Jacqueline and my father shared their first kiss in front of me, "If you would excuse me," and without their consent, I pushed my chair back, rushed up the stairs to my bedroom, and slammed the door shut.

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Jacqueline did _not _leave the following day, or the next, for that matter. An entire week passed before she went out to her parked Ford Anglia a few blocks away, and went driving off to 'work;' _She probably has some nice, cushy, easy, high-paying job, _I thought to myself, as I watched her walk down the street from my bedroom window, _Maybe she'll get shot on the way to her car, _I added, hopefully, as she paused, and brushed a few black hairs from off of her white purse…

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"So, do you like her?" my father suddenly asked, bringing me out of a great daze.

_"Who?" _I asked, exasperatedly; already knowing the answer.

_ "Jacqueline," _he whispered, for the millionth time that day, "Isn't it the most lovely name?" he added after a brief pause in which I rolled my eyes in both annoyance and sadness.

"It sounds like the name of some witch," I muttered, throwing a box of Oreos into the shopping cart, "Dad, I don't know why you've become so hooked to that woman... She hasn't returned any of your phone calls, and if she _cared _so much about you, then she would have already... _Dad!" _I screamed, as it appeared as if he had not even heard me.

"Yeah?" he asked, snapping out of his dream world at last.

"Dad, get out of La-La-Land! The bitch is trouble," I warned, as I picked out a fresh head of lettuce, and dropped it into the waiting cart, "If you mention her name one more time, I swear I'll scream."

_"Jacqueline," _he repeated, and I promptly prepared myself to scream, but then, I stopped myself; she was here-- she _worked _here! _Here _of all places! _Albertsons-- _Jacqueline worked at the _God-dammed supermarket! _

_ Please don't let her have heard him... Please, God... Please, God... _But no sooner had I made this prayer, she had turned around; hearing her name called. Her plait of blonde hair whipping around as well, and if you'll believe it, I hated it even more.

"Hi, James!" she called, waving, "I'm the check-out girl! Come on over to my line."

Her ugly, ringing voice had somehow gotten the attention of the entire store; everyone now faced us, as my father returned the goofy wave, and then dragged me over to the line of the bitch.

When it was at last our turn, I saw that she was once again wearing black; under her uniform, and it was then that I finally realized it. _It just _wasn't_ her color._

She smiled as my dad handed her a hundred dollar bill, and when she gave him twenty dollars, and sixty-seven cents as change, "I'll call you!" she yelled, as we exited through the sliding-glass doors.

I glared angrily back towards her as we headed out towards the parking-lot… I was _seething! _


	5. True Romance

_Chapter 4: "True Romance" _

_Who was this Jacqueline woman? Who was she, and why had my father become so taken with her in such a small amount of time? Who was Jacqueline, and why had she so suddenly entered our once peaceful lives? _

Dad had fallen for Jacqueline faster than I had previously thought possible for 'true love,' as he called it to occur-- I truly did not think of their little 'romance' as 'true love;' true love was something that I had only seen a couple of times, and besides, that woman wouldn't know how to 'love' a man without demanding things in the process; he had already bought her some pretty nice jewelry, and was planning something extremely special for her birthday... I hated everything about her, and I simply wanted her gone from my life; after that day at Albertsons, she had taken to spending more time at our house-- I doubted whether or not she even bothered to go back to her own place _at all. _

Staring at the two little lovebirds from behind my heavy Geometry book which had remained on page seventy eight for the last hour and a half with the dirtiest look I could manage, I simply wanted to throw a rock at her, and wipe that smug look off of her face once and for all. They sat on the couch across the room, watching some cheesy old horror flick on TV. It was nearing the end of September, and I had recently begun the eighth grade. I pretty much liked all of my teachers so far... I mean, at least I wouldn't have to deal with that fat old slut, Mrs. Johnson anymore... that old _hag _who had taught Homeroom the previous year!

_Why doesn't Jacqueline just go to hell? _I suddenly wondered, as my father spoke again, "More popcorn, sweetie?" he asked, as she finished the last butter-free, salt-free piece in the bowl, "No thank you," she replied, "I've already had _oh too _much. I've been watching my figure, remember? I think I'm already fat enough, and besides, I want to be the _most _perfect girlfriend for my Jamesie!" I rolled my eyes; she had recently taken to calling my father 'Jamesie--' some stupid nickname that she thought was cute, and full of innocence... My dad loved it, but I could see right through it; she was nothing but a fake bitch.

_"I _think that you're perfect, sweetie," my father piped up.

She giggled, and said, "Oh, you're just buttering me up!"

She laughed at her own stupid joke, and so did he. Frankly, I thought that she was pretty stupid, but alas, all blondes are, and besides, corny jokes coming out of Jacqueline was something always to be expected whenever she was around my father. I turned away as the couple began kissing again. To tell you the truth, whenever I would see the two together like this, I wanted to just get up, and hurl.

"Do you want anything from the kitchen, buttercup?" my father asked, as I began trying to concentrate on my Geometry homework once again.

"Allow me," she whispered, standing up, and gently shaking her plait of blonde hair, "I'll go."

"Are you sure?" he asked, as if this simple task was _far too _difficult for his stupid girlfriend.

"Yes," she answered, and she began walking away towards the kitchen; pausing at the threshold to blow him a kiss as if she were five.

"God, Dad," I muttered under my breath, "since when did you get married?"

He did not notice that I had spoken; in fact, he had been doing this for quite a while now. I shook my head, sadly; it was as if he were brain dead. It was as if he _never _saw me, and whenever he was looking directly into my eyes, he was only seeing Jacqueline! _Jacqueline--_ what, exactly _did_ Jacqueline see in my father? Why couldn't she have gone and wrecked some _other_ family? I stared at his happy face, and frowned; _If only she had never shown up on our doorstep. _

She returned from the kitchen a few minutes later, carrying a large plate full of slices of apples and oranges; I promptly rolled my eyes, as she sat down on the leather couch beside my father, and began giggling like a mad woman, "James," she whispered, in that _disgusting _voice of hers, "I decided that I would fancy some fruit."

"That's great, honey," he whispered, taking an orange slice, and shoving it; peel and all into his open mouth. He chewed for a moment, and then swallowed it... _whole, _"I've always _loved _oranges," he murmured, happily.

I felt a laugh escape from my throat; my father _hated _oranges! He had told me so many a time! "Do you want some, Bea?" the bitch asked, using the nickname that my father, and my father _only _used.

"No," I replied, coldly, and swiftly, _I'd never touch shit that your filthy hands touched, _I thought to myself, angrily.

Meanwhile, she head turned to my father once again, "I love you, James," she whispered, gently, allowing him to kiss her on the neck; she moaned softly, and I groaned in utter disgust, "I love you too," he replied, and I rushed upstairs; my nose buried in my Geometry book, as they began placing slices of fruit into each others' mouths.

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After I had slammed the door to my bedroom shut, I looked around; drinking in the fact that I was now alone, and would no longer be subject to witnessing the _fools'_ making out any longer.

I tossed my Geometry book aside, deciding to finish my homework the following morning in Study Hall; I grabbed my phone from off of my bedside table, and quickly dialed Carla's number.

"Hello?" she answered after the third ring.

"Hey, Carla," I spoke into the receiver, "What're you doing?"

"I just finished all of my math homework, and I was about to go online to celebrate-- then you called, and kicked me off."

"I'm sorry," I said, without meaning it.

"Oh, who gives a damn?" she asked, laughing, "It's just... ya'know..." she drifted off, "How's your dad?"

"Retarded," I replied.

"Oh?" she asked, truly intrigued.

And then, we launched into a forty-five minute conversation about the vermin and how to exterminate it...

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My thirteenth birthday came and went unnoticed, as did my fourteenth. I was in the eleventh grade when one of the worst moments in my early life occurred; my father proposed to that _bitch, _Jacqueline!

It was my fifteenth birthday, and school had just let out the previous week; I had been getting straight A's and B's for the past three years, so although my life at home was an absolute mess, I still took pride in the fact that I was doing well with my studies; just as I was finishing reading a chapter of a book I had just bought, I heard my father's voice calling me to come downstairs.

At first I felt a surge of excitement; you see, my father had completely forgotten all about my fifteenth birthday-- as he had for the past couple of years, and I was beginning to feel just like that girl in that movie, _Sixteen Candles-- _although at least she had not been forced to deal with Jacqueline as well as being virtually ignored by her father.

So anyways, I rushed down the stairs, and although quite disappointed, as I always was, I wasn't too surprised to find Jacqueline in the living-room, with her arm around my father's waist. You see, I wasn't surprised to see the little whore there because to 'further her relationship' with my father, she had decided to move into our 'humble home' about two months before; I remember the day of her moving in quite well; the fifty boxes filled with clothes, makeup, spare handbags, pictures-- most, quite unsurprisingly of herself in various poses, and a couple boxes filled with books-- most of which I would not be too surprised to find that she had never opened-- even to look at the pictures, if there were any to be seen within. She was a spoiled girlfriend... for instance, my dad took her on a yacht for her birthday, leaving me with my grandmother in Barstow for a couple of days-- a woman whom I loved deeply, but was barely awake at all during a large chunk of the day as she was usually in some drug-induced stupor from her prescriptions.

Supposedly, the little 'angel' had become seasick, ant they had had to cut their vacation short... I would have paid good money to see her yacking over the side of a boat, but that's besides the point. Let's just get one thing straight: Jacqueline was simply a fake, and money-hungry skag, who was as interested in my father's blind love for her as I am in reading an encyclopedia.

She was dressed in black today (no surprise there,) and she had so much makeup on that she looked like a clown. You may think that I am exaggerating here, but I assure you that I am not. With _her _complexion, she _did _look like a clown. Her skin was paler than mine for God's sake; she smiled at me-- or smirked; I couldn't be too sure, but either way, I knew that she was being fake as usual; I grimaced, as she spoke.

"Bea," she began, holding up her right-hand, "We have some good news--"

_"Great _news," my father interrupted; she turned to kiss him upon the cheek, and then returned her intent gaze upon me once again; her cold blue eyes staring deeply into my own, and sending chills up my spine, although they had been warm and twinkling only seconds before when gazing into my father's.

"Oh?" I asked, dreading her 'news.'

"Your father and I are engaged, and we were just about to go out and celebrate with a bottle of champagne."

My jaw dropped to the floor, as she explained (as if she thought that I had misunderstood;) "We're getting married."

This-- I had not expected _this; _of all the things she could have told me instead-- that she had a brain tumor, that she and my father were infamous cat burglars; of all the things she could have said instead, and it had been _this. _

Well, this was a very hard blow; I had not expected anything like this-- I had always suspected that something like this would eventually happen, but I had always kept the hope that it would not, and it had; of all the things my father could have given me on my birthday!

My gaze turned to my father, as if to ask him if this horror was true; he merely beamed, nodding happily, "I just proposed tonight," and I saw that this _wasn't _a joke, and that she _was _wearing a ring, and it was pretty expensive by the look of things, "What's wrong?" Jacqueline asked, after having seen my look of complete hurt, "Would you like to go out with us?"

I shook my head, ran upstairs, and cried for the rest of the night.

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As the weeks wore on, I became more and more accustomed to the notion that my father was marrying Jacqueline; now, whenever I looked at the huge rock on her finger, I no longer felt an uneasiness in my stomach... Nor did tears form in my eyes, whenever I thought of the two of them growing old with each other.

Staring out of the window, and into the warm sunshine of summer, I suddenly felt a frown form across my face, although I had not even been thinking about her; my mother's roses that had once grown all along the windowsill had since died, and would never grow again; _It's as if she never existed, _I thought, turning away from the sad sight, and looking towards the mantle on which my mother's college paintings hung... The now _bare _wall; _What's happened to my mom's paintings? _I wondered, standing up from the couch, and feeling a great anger rise from my chest, "Jacqueline!" I screamed, as I ran up the stairs to the bedroom which she shared with my father.

"What?" she asked, coldly, as I burst into the bedroom, to find her flipping through the pages of the latest issue of some fashion magazine, "Where are my mother's paintings?" I asked; unsure why I had become so panicked in such a short amount of time, and without any warning.

"I don't know," she replied, shrugging her shoulders, "maybe your father _finally _got rid of the moth-ridden things."

I stared at her, horrified, "Those paintings were the only things my mother left behind."

"Pity," she said, shrugging her shoulders.

I felt anger raging inside of me; I had attempted to keep quiet for quite a while-- told myself over and over again that as long as my father was in love, I should attempt to be happy for him, but in an instant, I had raised my hand; determined to vent out at least _some _of my resentment for the woman who had destroyed everything that my father once was, _"Fuck you," _I hissed, bringing it down, and leaving a red imprint of my hand.

"Jacqueline, I'm back!" my father's voice called from downstairs.

Jacqueline had at last torn her eyes away from the magazine, and was looking at me, "You'd better watch it, Beatrice, if--"

But I wasn't paying attention, for I had already left the bedroom, and was headed down the stairs.

"Dad!" I yelled, as I entered the living-room; my voice had never been so panicked-- so high-pitched and whiny-- I had never felt such anger and bitterness and fright before, "Dad, where are Mom's paintings?"

"Who?" he asked, with a glazed expression in his eyes as Jacqueline came down the stairs, "What happened to your face, sweetums?" he asked, as she took his hand.

"Nothing," she replied, touching the spot with her other hand, and staring at me, coldly, "Beatrice was just asking what you did with all of Joanna's junky oldpaintings," she raised her arched eyebrows, meaningfully, "I burned them, Jacqueline," he replied, as my heart sank into my stomach, "I burned them just like you told me to do."

And, feeling as if I was going to throw up, I ran up the stairs, into my room, and spent another day of crying.


	6. The Marriage

_Chapter 5: The Marriage _

The horrid deed occurred on July 22nd, 2003-- my father married Jacqueline, I mean. They were married in some depressing church by some priest who looked as though his heart could go out at any given moment without any warning; a man of the cloth, he seemed quite pleased by Jacqueline's beauty, and even commented on it once after he had performed the ceremony; Jacqueline had just giggled, and thanked him for his kindness.

Everything for the wedding had to be _just right, _from the size of the wedding cake to the gown Jacqueline wore-- some flowing creamy dress handmade by some snooty prick in Paris. She didn't deserve it.

I stood directly beside the 'blessed' couple while the hundreds of guests watched; most of them, however, were from my father's side, so you can bet I was rather pleased that hardly no one from Jacqueline's side of the family had bothered to show up, other than a few second cousins she had not seen in years, and she barely bothered speaking with them; leaving me alone with them, and being forced to try to make small talk. As I stood there, I felt like screaming, and _why, _exactly, you might be asking was _I _standing beside the two people whom I resented the most in the world...?

I was forced to be the flower girl-- a job which I of course detested with the utmost loathing. Not only did I look and feel like a complete goof ball in the long pink dress, but I was _much too _old to be a stinking flower girl! And when the bitter tears began pouring out of my eyes, as the newly wedded couple climbed into the long black limousine, and headed off to their blessed honeymoon, I'm sure that most of the guests figured that I was crying tears of joy... they certainly were _not _tears of joy! I was crying because my father was marrying that old bitch who had done nothing but tried make my life completely miserable, and in doing so, he was abandoning the memory of my mother, and most importantly, he was abandoning _me! _

Ever since he had proposed to her, less than a month before, all my father could do was talk about the upcoming marriage; forcing me to help Jacqueline try on wedding gowns, choose a wedding cake, and even plan out the ceremony; a couple of times I tried to convince my father to simply not marry her, but he could see no wrong in her-- no reason; he simply shook his head, and told me that he would hear no more on the matter.

I just didn't understand it all; Jacqueline had shown up on our doorstep nearly three years earlier without _any _warning, and before I knew it, she had cast some love spell on him, and all he cared about was her, and her feelings, and her needs; and now, he was rushing into some marriage that would inevitably end in divorce.

I missed the way things used to be, but I knew that wishing they would return would only make matters all the more worse; there I stood; decked out in my ghastly attire as they spoke their vows which condemned me. I stared at _her _as she whispered, "I do," in her _horrid _voice. I stared at them as they kissed, passionately, sealing the envelope, and making their marriage final; him enveloped in her beauty… her _false _beauty. And then, something very strange occurred; as their kiss ended, I saw that her eyes fluttered upon me for a moment; giving me a look of hatred… a look of happiness for her fortune… a look of loathing… a look of _triumph. _

I did not understand why at the time-- although along with other matters, I would later on, but the look she gave me seemed to foreshadow some future event that would change everything once again, but as soon as it had come, the look was gone, and I wondered if I had imagined the entire thing.

As she walked passed me, with a bouquet of blood-red roses in her pale hands... in her _gorgeous _white gown, I had to restrain myself from stepping on her long white veil, and making her fall… possibly breaking a few bones in the process... _Maybe _even dying…

But, the "happiest day of my father's life" simply _would not _end. After the ceremony, Jacqueline invited everyone out into the courtyard of the church, and whirled and twirled in her pure white gown-- although I knew for _dammed _sure that she wasn't a virgin, and didn't have any business in it, while a very flamboyant photographer whose extensive vocabulary consisted of two adjectives-- both of which were "fabulous," snapped pictures of the blushing bride in front of us all.

I could havesimply laiddown and _died. _

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I stared at the fading flowered wallpaper that covered the graying walls in the Guest Bedroom of my grandmother's home; it was eight at night, and her loud snores coming from the other side of the wall told me that she had fallen asleep long before. I bit my tongue in frustration; it was almost a relief being away from my father and his girlfriend-- wife, for a couple of days but it was quite troubling nonetheless, as when they returned, I would be forced to comply with the changes to be made.

I sighed, and allowed the bitter tears that had been waiting to exit my eyes all night to come out once again.

Everything had changed.

Everything had changed, and nothing would ever be the same again.

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After one extremely long couple of days, and they had at long last returned from their honeymoon, I saw that Jacqueline would no longer be wearing white, thus opting for black once again... My father also was to return to work; we barely said three words to each other; it was as if he were a ghost, and I would never know him again.

They picked me up from my grandmother's house at about three on a wednesday afternoon; Jacqueline was all smiles-- especially after having seen my saddened expression after having seen her for the first time in a while; my father kept on babbling during the car ride back home about how wonderful a wife Jacqueline was, who simply giggled, and told my father to please stop being so silly.

As soon as we got back home, I ran upstairs, and barricaded myself within my bedroom; determined to not allow the pair-- now married couple to screw up my sorry life-- but try as I might, I knew that they would always end up succeeding; Jacqueline even more so than him.

Since it was still summer vacation, and Jacqueline was sadly on 'break from work,' although I suspected that they had at long last fired her as she was rarely there on time-- if she bothered to show up at all... I would be stuck all alone with her for a couple of weeks; all of my friends were either at some degenerate camp or in summer school until the early days of August.

I stared out of my window, and into the outside world, frowning, slightly, as I waved at my father at 7 AM as he backed out of the driveway; although I was extremely angry with the man for betraying me, I still wanted to make amends with him, but whether or not he saw me, he did not choose to respond.

I heard a gentle knock on the door, and Jacqueline's voice asking, "Bea, are you up yet? Do you want some breakfast?"

I did not respond, and opted to jump back into bed, just in case that she decided to burst into my bedroom, and check in on me.

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I began to feel hungry at around noon, so I gathered up all of my courage, and ventured down the stairs in order to make myself a sandwich... After all, _this was my house! _It wasn't like my father had handed her over the lease or something, and besides, who was I to judge, but maybe Jacqueline was out having an affair-- she _did _seem like the type.

I looked around the living-room, and realized (with quite a bit of happiness) that the bitch's presence was for once absent from the spacious room-- there was no sign of her; perhaps I _had _been right in assuming that she was out cheating on my father-- in any case, it would make it easier to convince him to kick her to the curb.

I instantly felt happier than I had been for the past three years, and I felt a light spring in my step as I walked towards the kitchen; this was _my _day, and if Jacqueline thought that she could ruin it, she was _mad-- _there was no way around it, I was not going to let her try to ruin my life any longer-- I was going to live my own life-- without any of Jacqueline's influence from now on.

It was a vow that I would not be able to keep, for Jacqueline's actions would eventually change everything, and rule my life, but I could not know any of the dire consequences that would come of being around Jacqueline just yet, for I was naive; to me, Jacqueline was just some bitch whom my father had married-- little did I know what she truly was.

I pushed the door that led to the kitchen open, and to my disappointment found Jacqueline sitting at the kitchen table, looking into her hand-mirror, and combing her long blonde hair, _Just when you think you're rid of her, there she is, _I thought, angrily, and to add to my annoyance, she wore black pajamas today (no surprise there!)

"Hello," she said, as I entered the kitchen, "I tried to make--"

"Hi," I replied coldly, instantly cutting her off.

"How'd you sleep?" she asked, quickly trying to change the subject.

"Why should you care?" I asked, frankly surprised by her question.

"Can't a girl ask a question around here?" she asked, innocently, as I walked around her; trying to avoid her, and towards the cupboard.

"Look, Jacqueline," I answered, pulling out a large jar of peanut butter, "I know that you don't want to be here with me, and frankly, my _worst _nightmare is being stuck here with you," I grabbed a butter knife from a drawer, and opened the bread-box.

"Cold," she remarked, as I stared at the label on the bread: _Carb-Free Whole Wheat Bread; _"What is this shit?" I asked, pulling it out, and throwing it down on the counter, _Who can ruin bread? _I thought, annoyed.

"It's bread for people on the Atkin's diet," she replied, smoothly, "It's _totally _good for you."

I rolled my eyes, "So, now we all have to suffer?" I asked, and I opened up the package, "Maybe you should start it too," I heard Jacqueline going on from behind me; totally nonplussed by my attitude towards her, "Why?" I asked, exasperatedly, as I began spreading the peanut butter over a slice of bread with the knife.

"You're looking a bit hippy nowadays."

"Ha!" I replied, grabbing another piece of bread, and putting the two together, "Jacqueline, _please _don't give me that shit right now, I'm not in the mood-- it's bad enough I'm stuck here for most of the summer with you... And besides, and my weight is perfectly fine... I wear Size 5 jeans, and I _don't _want to be anorexic like you-- my father may like it, but I find it quite disgusting," I threw the ingredients back into the cupboard, threw the knife into the sink, and began exiting stage-right, and then, "Do you like my new things?" she suddenly asked, holding it up the mirror and comb for me to see.

I turned around, and saw for once how beautiful the mirror and comb she held were; the frame of the mirror was carved with realistic leaves, and the glass was clear and smooth... It was so shiny that the sun, which was streaming in through the window made it glow. The comb, was long... It was pure silver, embedded with small stones, though the teeth were quite sharp, they remained beautiful, "Your father gave them to me."

And then I absolutely hated them, "They're nice," I replied, and then went upstairs to eat my lunch in privacy, hoping that I would not be forced to see Jacqueline again all day.


	7. Down the Stairs

_Chapter 6: Down the Stairs _

So, hardly expecting it, I found myself stuck with the bitch. And now, there was no way around it; there was _zero way, whatsoever_ of her leaving _my_ home, and now that she was the 'lady of the house,' she had taken total control over _everything, _including my father-- although she had had taken total control of him beforehand-- but now that she was his 'bride,' she had decided to take control of my actions, and even the way the house looked as well. She deemed almost everything 'tacky;' saying "Jamesie, _dear... _I know you like the kitchen counters, but they're just too-- _too; _We simply _must _pick out some new ones when you're off work."

And of course, my father would instantly agree to her selfish demands; of course pleased that he would be able to run around like her slave, while she sat around the house, looking into her mirror, or painting her fingernails.

Yes. And if you can believe it, the second my back was turned, Jacqueline decided to hire a fancy decorator in order to give the house more of a 'woman's touch;' if I remember correctly, my father shelled out about five grand just to ensure that she could fix up the house in _any way _she wanted. Staring at the flowery curtains that now blocked out the rest of the world, I actually scoffed; I'm sure that you can imagine my utter horror when these had been delivered to our residence the previous month-- and I had been forced to sign for them to boot; I had wanted to lie and say that we hadn't ordered the atrocities, but I was not bold enough. Forcing every bit of pride I had, I had given the paper my signature, and had watched my father put them up the following evening. But this was not the worse she had done to us all; I still could not believe that Jacqueline had also decided to begin monitoring my phone calls; all the while telling me that I should no longer associate myself with 'riffraff' like Carla-- as soon as Jacqueline had put this plan into action, I had taken out to sneaking out at night to hang out with friends whom my stepmother had deemed 'unworthy;' defying her in secret was empowering-- one of the only things I could do to get back at her... _She_ couldn't choose my friends-- well, she could _think _that she had, but as long as the blonde bitch basically left me alone for most of the day, I was fine. Yeah. Jacqueline really was a great judge of character, and my father-- he had not even realized that Jacqueline was such a total control freak-- not that he could, I mean. After all, my father was blinded with love for this vile creature, and simply could not be swayed into realizing what she truly was.

It was the worst situation that could have ever happened-- ever been _imagined _by the _worst mind _in the world-- however, I do have trouble believing that anyone could have foreseen it; if anyone had, and had alerted me to the horrors that would soon begin, I would have made sure that my father and me would leave town, and start a new life somewhere else after my mother's death-- but then again, if I could have been alerted to the coming of Jacqueline, maybe my mother could have been saved...

I bit back tears, and tried to concentrate on the ugly patterns that made up the swirling roses and tulips; Jacqueline sure had _great _taste...

I laughed, despite myself; but then a grim thought entered my mind. They were married now, though-- I wanted to accept it, but I just couldn't; it was a nightmare-- and a bad one at that; I needed out of everything, but there _was_ no way out...

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_Who does the whore bag think she is? _I wondered, angrily, once again trying to blink the painful tears away... I was washing the dishes that night-- weren't many of course, because you see, my father had taken Jacqueline out for the third time that week-- and probably for the millionth time in their rather short time of being a 'loving couple;' it was a Saturday evening, and because Jacqueline would become quite suspicious if they returned home only to find the house empty, and it would be even more risky to have friends over, I was forced to remain all alone until she and my father at last decided to return from their 'outing,' and _of course _I couldn't call friends because the stupid bitch had conveniently forgotten to pay the phone bill. _Stuck at home on the weekend, _I realized, angrily, as a neighbor's dog barked loudly from outside, _And stupid Jacqueline can't even have Dad call to tell me when they'll be back... Not that she would, anyway, _I added, as an afterthought.

I was so angry because, you see, Jacqueline wasn't just my father's slutty girlfriend anymore. No. She was his _wife, _and from now on would be my _stepmother. _So, we were actually _related _in a way, and the very thought made me sick; the way they seemed to be so "in love..." I don't know how one could call what they had _love... _

When my mother had still been alive, my father had never had to take her out on extravagant shopping sprees simply to prove how much he 'adored her;' _she _had never asked him to take her out to dinner literally every other night. _She had actually loved him..._

Little did Jacqueline realize, however, that the money was quickly going away; my mother's Life Insurance-- or what little was left of it was nearly gone, and when I turned eighteen, I planned on taking my inheritance, and leaving town... for good. But that was nearly two years away, and in the meantime, I would have to endure the pain of being stuck with the worst people in the world. Although I hated to be planning it out, I knew that I would be living off of my mother's death-- but I had to accept it, for I was sure that my mother would have wanted me to continue living-- no matter what would happen to her widowed husband; my thoughts returned to Jacqueline, for as she rarely worked nowadays, soon she would simply be _forced _to get a full time-job. I snickered at the thought of Jacqueline running around some restaurant taking orders, and although they had only been married for little over three weeks, Jacqueline had already had some frivolous conversation with me concerning what I was now expected to call her.

For you see, I had taken on the attitude that I was going to call the bitch whatever I felt like, but no! Slut-Face had to ruin _that _too, "Oh, Bea," she had said, wearing that slinky black outfit, and smiling, "_never _call me _Stepmother, _I _despise _that name; please, aren't we _friends? _Just call me _Mother." _

At the time, I had actually gasped; the mere thought of calling this woman_ Mother _was _beyond _me.I could never-- _never _call a woman Mother, except of course my own, who had passed away nearly half a decade before. This bitch was _insane_ if she thought that I could _ever _respect her.

_And Dad-- _Dad! _Dad was just as stupid and sickening as Jacqueline now, _I scrubbed my bowl angrily, and then threw it back into the sudsy water; angry at my father as well for neglecting the house's repairs; the dishwasher had broken two years earlier, and he _still _hadn't fixed it; it was one of the few things that Jacqueline had not asked for him to have redone or replaced-- I was almost positive that she took pride in seeing me angrily scrubbing away at the filthy dishes that she tended to leave for me in the sink.

I wanted to scream-- to shout out my anger and frustration, but I knew it would do no good; I sighed, and then stared at the dishes that were still in the sink, "I'll just let _Mom _do it," I said, smiling at my own cleverness, and then shuddering at the name.

I went upstairs, and climbed into bed. By the time Midnight approached, I was fast asleep. I was not even awoken by the strange rolling lights of the approaching car that filled my bedroom-- although in the emptiness of my sleep, I somehow sensed them.

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They made _way too much _noise coming up the stairs; waking me up in the process. My eyelids snapped open, and I looked around my bedroom; it was pitch black, and the only sense of light was the eerie, quiet, green glowing of my alarm clock which read 2:30 AM. I groaned, and then rolled over on my side to attempt to drown out the sounds, but it was useless-- _If they were going to act like such animals, why couldn't they have shown me at least some courtesy, and rented some cheap crappy motel room for the night? _I wondered.

The pair of them were talking and laughing like complete maniacs from the local insane asylum; their door creaked open, and then slammed shut; their loud giggles penetrated the usual complete sereneness of the night... They probably had sex, which would not surprise me in the least, knowing the total _slut _that Jacqueline is.

Even when the giggling had at last subsided-- and trust me, it seemed to go on for_ever_, I stayed up; much too restless and worried to allow my eyes to shut; something about the night was strange-- frightening-- there was something fowl in the air, and yet I could not place it, so I simply could not allow my body to fall asleep. I was intent; hearing every sound and movement in the household. An hour passed in this fashion; at around 3:30 AM, I heard Jacqueline's timid whisper of, "Can you get me a glass of water?"

"Of course baby," I heard my father coo, while I rolled my eyes-- they always seemed to act even more annoying directly after having had sex; I heard him opening his bedroom door, and climbing down the stairs. Suddenly, there was a loud commotion; the air was filled with my father's shouts and screams. And then, every few seconds, there was a loud _THUMP!... _a loud banging and crashing every few seconds as he tumbled down the stairs.

At first, I felt like I was inside a troubling dream; it simply couldn't be-- it could _not _have happened so suddenly, and without _any _warning... Only when I felt my hot face, and intense heart beats in my chest, did I realize the terrifying truth... _THIS WAS NO DREAM! _"Dad!" I screamed, jumping out of bed, and rushing towards my bedroom door; I wrenched it open, and rushed outside, into the hallway; feeling the same strange sense of foreboding which I had felt when I had been searching for my mother, only to find her _de_ad-- _No,_ I thought, _This cannot be happening again-- Please don't let it be true,_ "Dad," I whispered. And there I stood, at the foot of the stairs; my eyes going down… down… _down--_ all the while, hoping against all hope that I would not find--and_, there he was._

**_DEAD-- _**the words flashed dark and frightening through my mind for a moment, as I realized the terrible truth-- the fact that everything I had feared was true-- my father-- my father... There he lay on the bottom step, his body limp, and his head twisted at an odd angle. His forehead gashed open, blood pouring out like water from a water faucet. He lay in a puddle of his own, dark, ruby-red blood; his eyes were still open; their lifelessness pleading for help, his mouth closed. I screamed at the nightmarish sight of him.

This just didn't make sense; how could it have happened? How could such a terrible accident have taken place with me so nearby-- in the other room no less. But, had it been an accident? Had a murder just taken place in my own home right under my nose...? I felt my throat forming an unearthly scream; it couldn't-- _couldn't_ be true! It was an accident-- a terrible accident, and suddenly, not even seconds later, Jacqueline too was at the foot of the stairs, staring at his corpse, "What's happened to him?" she asked, frightened, and then, she saw the puddle of blood, "Oh, my God!" she screamed, "He's dead!" and that somehow made it much more real and final.


	8. The Apple

_Chapter 7: The Apple _

"Now, now, Beatrice, just calm down," my stepmother suddenly whispered, reassuringly; her voice a calm comfort in a storm-- or at least the eye of it. I could not be sure; everything seemed to be going way too fast; I was getting a headache-- a migraine, and the woman I had hated so was somehow-- oddly enough-- _right,_ "Yes," I whispered, closing my eyes, and trying to get the image of my father out of my head; although I could not, for I remained seeing it; his head-- the blood, "I must calm down," I whispered, as she put a comforting arm around my trembling shoulder, and gave it a gentle squeeze, "Shh... that's right. We'll get help... you just need to calm down-- we can't panic. It will only make matters worse, all right? It was an accident, Beatrice-- a horrible accident."

I nodded once again.

An accident-- my father's death had to have been an accident. She was right-- hadn't she _always _been…? Wait a minute… What was I thinking…? This was the woman who had been cruel to me-- had stabbed me in the back countless times; the woman who had tried to kill my spirit, and--

She turned me away from the staircase, and began leading me down the hall, "Shh," she repeated, soothingly; her voice beginning to resemble that of my mother's; I nodded, glad for the first time in my life that this woman was my stepmother, _Dead... **DEAD-- **Just like Mom... He's dead, and there's nothing I can do to bring him back... Why me...? Why me...? _

I wanted to scream-- I wanted the emptiness of my soul to be felt throughout the world-- the _universe._ But I remained silent. I remained silent as we walked down the empty hallway, and as Jacqueline continued to whisper comforting words to me; her once extremely annoying voice was now beautiful, and meaningful. Each word she whispered made me want to forget what had happened even more. Had I not been so crazy with loss, I would have realized what her voice really was; manipulative.

But it was _then-- _not now. Not today years before in the past; when I had been so much more naïve.

The tears now began to fall freely from my eyes, without stopping, and onto my bare feet; each tiny droplet of water that made up the tear trickling down my toes; tickling them. I actually wanted to giggle to get rid of some of the anxiety I was feeling

Everything was beginning to slow down now, and as the dreamlike qualities of the evening suddenly returned to reality and I felt Jacqueline slipping her hand around my arm, and then dragging me back towards my bedroom. I was still lost; not myself. Her spell, if you can call it that was still continuing when she pushed the door open, and it made a tiny creak, as I had left it open ajar. I opened my eyes, and as they adjusted to the darkness, I looked up; seeing for the first time that she too had tears in her eyes. _Maybe she **DID** have feelings for my father,_ I thought, as she promptly sat me down on my bed; I faced the white walls, and closed my eyes once again; trying to shut out everything... _Everything... _

I traced a trembling finger along the walls; the paint job was still as white as paper; I sniffled, remembering the day when my father had painted it for me... He was gone now.

Just like my mother.

Grief is a strange thing; it befalls the worst possible circumstances in life, and while it can make us stronger in the long run, at the time, there is a feeling of complete hopelessness that comes along with it. A feeling that life will never be the same again, and that the world has completely stopped.

I had lost someone before, but during this first experience with death, I had, at least, kept a shard of hope. When my mother had died, I still had had my father, but now-- now--

My thoughts were interrupted by Jacqueline's strange voice, "Here, Beatrice, maybe _this_ will cheer you up."

I quickly turned around; my stepmother clutched a ruby-red apple in her hand; it looked absolutely _delicious._

The peel was a dark, deep read, and such a _lovely_ smell was wafting from the inside of the tender peal, that my mouth actually began to water with anticipation at the thought of actually being able to _eat_ the lovely piece of fruit. And it was so ripe; it was larger than most apples, in a way, it was strange, and magical, and beautiful, and gorgeous, all at the same time. One thing was certain; _I wanted it._

_What does it matter if Dad is dead?_ A voice hissed inside my head, _What does it matter? _

I returned my intent gaze upon the apple, and held out my hand, "Do you want it?" she asked, holding it up; high; just out of my reach, but right there, all the same.

I nodded, greedily, and snatched the large apple from out of her grasp.

"I'm going to call the police," she whispered, wiping the tears out of her almond shaped eyes with a black pajama sleeve.

I nodded, indifferently, and turned towards the wall once again. I stared at the apple in my hands for less than a moment's time, before breaking into its sweet flesh-- its deliciousness with my teeth. _It **WAS** delicious!_ I hungered for more. I swallowed. But, just as I was taking a second bite, a strong, hard blow came to the back of my head, and I was knocked unconscious.


	9. All Alone with Stepmother

_Chapter 8: Alone in the Hospital Room with Stepmother _

I awoke quite some time later with a throbbing, and heavily bandaged head, lying in a very lumpy bed in the far left corner of an unfamiliar room that I had never set foot in before.

Only after some time of wincing at the pain that was quickly beginning to announce itself in the back of my head, and looking around my surroundings to find the yellowing wallpaper that papered the walls did I realized where I now was. St. Marge's-- the _hospital. _

_ I guess they didn't give me enough painkillers, _I thought, as the throbbing in my head worsened.

_Dad's dead, _I suddenly realized, as a shiver was sent up my spine, _He's dead, and Jacqueline killed-- _I felt a second shudder;_ my stepmother had just tried to kill me. _I hastily shook the images out of my head of the woman coming from behind, and hitting me over the head with a baseball bat when we had just made friends not even five minutes earlier...

It was frightening. Absolutely frightening; how had it happened-- _why _had it happened...? The image of the heavy blood-red apple entered my mind, and I shuddered; I could still taste it in the back of my throat. A part of me still hungered for it; I reached over to the bedside table, and grabbed a small cup of water; after a single moment, I had drained the entire thing, and the flavor of the apple at last left my mouth.

I hated being alone right now; who knew what was lurking in the corner-- or in the other room, for that matter. Jacqueline had killed my father, and she could be waiting for me right outside the window for all I knew. I stared at the small window, and found, to my relief, that curtains blocked out the view of the outside world; it was still unsettling, yes, but at least I didn't have to see whatever was waiting...

But still, the thought of being all alone...

I coughed; my throat was dry now, and there was no water to be found in the room; it didn't matter, though. My father was dead, and Jacqueline had probably just slipped away into the night after having left me for dead; I closed my eyes in silent terror. Someone in the adjoining room had screamed in their sleep for some reason; _Maybe someone is having nightmares-- my _life _is a nightmare... _I opened my eyes again, and stared down at my fingernails; they were still stained red from the juice of the apple. I shuddered, and tucked them underneath the bed covers-- and out of sight. It was quite unnerving, however. Knowing that parts of the apple still lingered; the flavor was now coming back into my mouth.

I blinked sleep out of my eyes, _What time is it? _I wondered, once again pulling my right hand out from under the sheets, and staring at the watch that was wrapped around my wrist; it read 3:00, _Useless, _I realized, remembering that the thing had stopped working almost a year ago. A second thought lazily entered my mind; _How long have I been here...? _I stared at the buzzer that lay on a small tray beside me; I knew that if I pushed it, I could get answers; my hand inched towards it, but then, I decided against it, knowing that they'd probably just give me more medications, and tell me to shut up; and as I was already drugged up enough... I stared out the window, and frowned at the dark skies slowly turning pink; I was drowning in self-pity as a wave of guilt fell upon me; _Dad's dead, and it's all my fault..._

But that wasn't necessarily true; I knew that. Even then. When I was practically delirious with grief. A part of me still knew that the death of my father could only be blamed on one person, and that was Jacqueline.

Jacqueline had murdered my father in cold blood.

She had killed him, and had attempted to do the same with me-- with the apple. It had been so delicious. Bewitching. Somehow, it had made me forget-- if only for about forty-five seconds, it made me forget that my father had died. Jacqueline's voice echoed in my mind, '_It was an accident, Beatrice-- a horrible accident.' _I had been stupid enough to believe it, and it just wasn't the apple-- her voice. Her voice is what really had controlled me.

I sighed, and felt warm sweat slowly dripping off of my forehead; I tended to get sick in the midst of pain, so it made sense that I would feel so warm and nauseated.

My stomach was burning; it felt like it had been filled with acid. I groaned, rolled over on my side, and kicked the sheet off to expose myself to the cool air of night.

And though the night was freezing cold, and I barely had had a sheet to cover me up, I felt hot. I brought a trembling hand to my sweating forehead, and realized with some annoyance that I had a fever... I closed my eyes, and lay my head back down on the equally lumpy pillow, determined to fall asleep again; suddenly, there was a voice-- a _whisper _clearly uttered to draw my attention; my eyes snapped open, "Who's there?" I called out, but before I had finished my sentence, a third shudder was promptly sent up my spine as I realized who occupied the sitting-chair across the room from me; _it was_ _my murderous stepmother! _She clutched her hand-mirror in one hand, in the other she held the silver comb; she had been brushing her golden hair-- as if she had just spent a nice evening out in town, as opposed to killing the parent I had left, "Hello," she whispered, seeing that I had awoken; a smile spread across her face as she realized her whispering tactic had worked, "Why have you followed me here?" I demanded in a shaky voice; the drugs were still wearing off, and I felt groggy and it all felt like a dream.

She stared at me; clearly surprised my question, "You don't honestly believe I could stand around and let you go blabbing to the authorities do you?" her right eyebrow rose slightly, "Due to what you might have believed before tonight, my dear child, I am not as stupid as I may seem." She stood up from her sitting chair, and let the silver comb fall to the floor; she calmly bent down, and picked it up again as my anger and fright escalated.

"Why have you done this...?" I asked, returning my gaze to the woman whom I so despised, "Dad loved-- thought he loved you, and you killed him while his back was turned... You're nothing but a fucking _coward."_

_"Don't call me a coward," _she warned, her eyes flashing dangerously; I cringed at her anger; all false compassion was now gone from her voice; she meant what she said-- no longer the false twit I had once known; Jacqueline was pure _evil. _

There was a moment of silence between us while I slowly regained my energy, "Why did you try to _kill _me?" I asked, allowing a quick glance outside the window at the morgue across the street.

She clucked her tongue as she slipped the beautiful comb back into her pocket, "_'Kill' _is such a _strong _word. I was just _getting rid of you." _

_ **"WHY?" **_I roared across the room, as my head pounded with all of the things that had just befallen me.

She laughed; her voice rather like the chiming of bells, "You're so foolish, Beatrice... Maybe clever, but you don't know anything about life; if it weren't for your foolishness, your father would still be alive."

**_"FUCK YOU!" _**I screamed.

_"Quiet down, Beatrice;" _she whispered, "Do you want to wake the entire hospital?"

**_"YES!" _**I screamed, **_"HELP!" _**

****

****She rushed over to my bed, _"Shut up," _she hissed, clutching my neck in a strangulatory grip, "I could kill you _right now," _she loosened her grip, "but I won't."

"Why don't you kill me now, bitch?" I asked, angrily, as she let go of my neck, "It is _you _who are foolish in thinking that I am afraid of death; you've made my life miserable enough… just finish it. _Kill me now." _

"False bravery," she laughed, "My, you _are _stupid, here I am allowing you to keep your life, and yet, you _still _wish to die."

**_"WHY DID YOU KILL MY FATHER?" _**I roared across the room.

_"Shut up," _she repeated, "It was actually very simple, but_ you-- _such a _stupid _girl like _you _could _never _understand why I married your father only to kill him."

This time, it was I who laughed, "What was it, Jacqueline? Life insurance? There had to be a reason."

"You could never comprehend it."

**_"TRY ME, BITCH!" _**I roared across the room.

_"Stop _screaming, you little whore!"

"No!"

"It's all _your_ entire fault. That's why the paramedics came in the first place, and whisked you away-- _rescued _you… it was _'too late,' _as they so kindly put it for your darling little father. He's in the morgue across the street from us as we're having our little discussion. They said he was killed on instant... I stayed in the house for a bit to hear their conversation... 'Such a tragedy,' they had said."

_"You fucking old hag," _I hissed, "I just have one question before I get someone in here... The apple. What was in it to make me believe you."

"Apples have always been a very important part of my culture-- It was the apple, after all, that first tempted Eve in the Garden."

"I don't care to discuss theology-- _least of all _with the likes of you."

"Well, it worked, didn't it? Your lips are still stained bloody-red from the apple. I always prided myself on things like--"

I reached for the buzzer, "They'll believe me. They'll take you away. You'll die for your crime."

"Not so fast, Beatrice," she whispered, as I pushed the button, only to find that nothing happened, "Do you honestly think I would leave that thing the way it is? I cut the wires right after I arrived here."

"I can still scream. They'll come for me. They'll find you, and--"

She laughed, cutting me off, "I followed you here to get rid of you _once and for all." _

_ " 'Get rid of me!' "_ I repeated, _"What in the fuck do you mean? **KILL ME NOW!" **_

****

****"No, I'll be generous-- I have other ways of disposing of you-- of sending you away, I mean. I was going to kill you before, but I suppose I've changed my mind... I hope you can survive for just a little bit there... Who knows? It might be fun watching you squirm, and I assure you, I'll be there soon to dispose of you for forever. Keep an eye out for me."

**_"WHAT IN THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE? A FUCKING WITCH?" _**

_ "Hey! _Patient #212 is acting up!" a voice called from outside the closed door.

_"See?" _Jacqueline hissed, "They're coming for you."

She ran over to her chair, and picked up the pocket-mirror, "Now, they'll be _looking _for you, but they'll _never _find you where I'm sending you."

**_"WHERE?" _**I roared.

And she smashed the strange mirror over my head; knocking me unconscious for a second time in two hours. Though I was unconscious, I saw and felt everything that followed.

My body felt as if it had been encased in hot, molten, liquid glass, and suddenly my stepmother's black outfit became fur, and her ears became pointed, and she shrunk down in size, and she became the _black cat. _No, she _was _the black cat.

Then, my world disappeared, and my uncomfortable bed became a grassy field. Then everything disappeared; becoming black. _I truly was unconscious NOW._


	10. Lost

_Chapter 9: Lost _

And so, my journey began.

The journey that is still continuing to this day, and will not most likely end until the day I die.

Somehow-- although it was not very surprising in the least, I numb and sore when I awoke the following morning; there was a huge bump on the back of my head that was throbbing wildly, (I figured that it had been swelling since I had left the hospital), and I was still wearing the fading periwinkle robe that they usually tend to slip over your street clothes right when you arrive at the hospital. I groaned. Somehow, during my journey from _my _world, and into this strange one, the bloodstained bandages that had been wrapped around my head to prevent infection had fallen off, and disappeared into the wind. Was _there wind? _I wondered, as I sat up, and looked around my peaceful, tranquil surroundings; as I did so, I realized that it probably _was _morning. And the painkillers they had given me weren't doing their work anymore; no wonder my head was throbbing so... I felt the bump on my head, and groaned again. To make matters worse, I'd probably be getting an infection soon.

And the sun. A huge yellow orb in the blue sky was harshly shining upon my pale face-- paler than usual from all of the tension and fear that I had experienced within the last twenty-four hours, and it had also become bruised during my journey; I must have landed on my face. Wincing in pain, I brought a trembling finger to touch a purple bruise just above my left cheek, and then took it off just as quickly. The pain was killing me. I closed my eyes; trying to remember what had led up to the journey, and how exactly I had ended up in the forest... There had been the black cat-- and the fiery pain after the strange mirror had been shattered over my head. Whatever Jacqueline had done, she had done a damn good job. She had gotten rid of me once and for all, and I didn't know where I was. There was no way home; Jacqueline had probably figured on this... Although I had never realized it before, Jacqueline was crafty. She had planned this journey very well-- _My journey... _was _it a journey, or was it a _banishment _from the world, people, and places whom I had loved? _I felt a stab of pain and comprehension in my empty stomach; I had suddenly remembered that my father was now dead-- although you couldn't really say that I had _forgotten _it. His death had been in the back of my mind from the moment I had woken up; Jacqueline, the woman whom he had loved so dearly with all of his heart had betrayed him in the ultimate, by killing him without cause or reason. The thoughts were making my head pound. I felt woozy. I suddenly realized that they had used multiple drugs on me back in the hospital; the pain had returned, but I was terribly groggy. _Maybe I've been asleep here for days, _I thought, standing up on two very shaky legs, and hearing my stomach growl timidly... I hadn't had _anything _to eat since the apple-- the small bite of heaven that had condemned me.

I looked down at my hands; my fingernails were _still_ stained red, and just looking at them returned the image of the dark red blood that had flowed from my father's corpse after she had murdered him in cold blood, _I wonder where Jacqueline is now, _I wondered, shaking a bit from the frightening image of the ghostly black cat as Jacqueline transformed, _Could this all be a dream? _I thought, somewhat hopefully, looking around me, and at the tranquil, lush, surreal greens, and subtle browns. And then, a second voice answered directly after; cruelly-- and rationally, _Then why does it all seem so real? _A tear rolled down my cheek, but I wiped it away; deciding that it was best to remain strong. _Everyone would want be to try to go on, _I told myself, hardly believing the calming words. **_MAGIC-- _**_What sort of magic was going on...? _But that was crazy. Simply crazy. It just didn't make sense, after all. There wasn't such a thing as magic, and yet magic was the only thing that could _possibly _explain what had happened to me. Either way, it didn't make sense, though. Even if I blamed Jacqueline's transformation into a cat before my very eyes on a hallucination... the fact that hospital workers were rushing into rescue me-- that could _not _be explained. Jacqueline couldn't possibly have smuggled me out of the room, and dumped me in some forest because the room was on the fifth fucking floor.

Any way you wanted to explain it. If magic had had a role to play in my journey, or if it was could all be explained scientifically or whatever, standing around, and exploring my very few options was _not_ the best thing to do in this situation.

And so I began to wander about aimlessly; soon realizing by the leafy-green canopies of the forest that Jacqueline had somehow trapped me inside some bizarre prison from which there was no hope of escape; whatever lay outside of the forest was blocked of what seemed like miles upon miles of endless trees. It was maddening. Simply maddening, "How in the fuck did I _ever_ end up here?" I wondered out loud, as a blue jay began to sing its bittersweet song in a nearby elm tree. It was quite a mystery after all. A mystery I could only hope would one day be solved.

I seldom slept; I was too scared-- too nervous to sleep, and as the days wore on, I began panicking; all I did _all day _was pace-- going around and around and around in endless circles, all the while wondering why I had been sent here; lost in the God-dammed woods... Hearing strange memories screaming my name in my mind; my stomach growling with hunger, my throat aching with thirst, my body weak, and dying... _I was lost._


	11. Suicidal

_Chapter 10: Suicidal_

And so, without having ever expected anything like it, I found myself in a great jam; here I was, lost in a strange, unreal, and seemingly endless forest, while my stepmother was ironically in the real world-- _my _world, if you could call it that, celebrating my downfall-- if you could call it that. I wasn't too sure. Well, I wasn't too sure of _anything _anymore, and it really didn't matter any way you looked at it. All I wanted anymore was to simply find Jacqueline, and make her suffer for what she had done to my father and me. Oh, how I longed to strangle her-- to end her wicked life-- for her to suffer... _expire, _as my father had. Only Jacqueline actually deserved to die, and if there was a God, she would burn in hell afterwards. As I wandered throughout the forest in the afternoon, that's probably what kept me going the entire time-- the thought of being able to return to the hospital, and kill her right then and there-- the little whore that she was. But there was a pretty good chance (and I knew this), that Jacqueline had left the hospital already, and gone off to South America or something, but it was the principal of things.

But I also knew that it was very unlikely that I would _ever _get out of the forest-- at least alive, and be able to return home-- or what little was left of it. I could get out of the forest and start rebuilding my life-- by starting with Jacqueline's murder. I smiled despite myself; everything seemed so unlikely right now. I'd probably end up dying of thirst in a couple of days-- a week at the most. Though Jacqueline had come off as the definition of a 'dumb blonde,' she had been smart enough to imprison me somewhere from which there was no escape and no safety-- the forest was a complete deathtrap.

I walked on for days; hearing birds singing, and the feeling the sun shining on my face through the gaps between the tall treetops... Sleeping under bushes, and growing even more wary of everything I had encountered thus far in the world of hell that the forest was.

One night, I simply could not sleep-- (although this was a natural occurrence now); I couldn't help but wonder if Jacqueline was somehow watching me. Instead, I sat, and stared up at the few stars that could be seen... _What am I doing here? I want to go home... I want to go home..._

I blinked biter tears out of my eyes, and stared down at the ground, _I don't want this anymore. I want to _die...

'_I want to die...' _It just didn't sound like me. It didn't sound like anything I would say, but it was coming from me, and it made absolute sense. It was the truth, after all.

It was crazy, right? Well, no. Not really. I-- Beatrice wouldn't have said that in my-- her old life, but I-- Beatrice was a new person now. The thoughts of death filled my emptiness. I wanted to die all right, but my thoughts weren't what was becoming crazy, I was, and I was no longer Beatrice Horowitz.

_---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

The following morning, at long last, I found a small clearing with a food and water source just large enough for about two people; _The oasis of the forest, _I thought dryly, rushing towards the nearest berry bush, and plunging an aching hand into it; at first I wondered if they were poisonous, and then I realized that I no longer cared, so I began plucking off the red berries, one by one, and popping them into my mouth; their red juice bursting as I bit down; staining my teeth a deep red that had only been rivaled by that of the apple's.

As I chewed and swallowed (a bit disappointed that the berries were harmless), I realized that in taste, they were simply _disgusting-- _bitter; not sweet at all, as dark red berries were supposed to be, "At least it's food," I advised myself; restraining the urge to spit out the berries, and just kill myself. "At least it's food," I repeated, trying to be optimistic, although it was getting increasingly difficult, as I walked over to the small trickling crystal-clear stream, and brought my face into the water, drinking for a good full minute before taking my head out, and gasping for air; the cool water had washed away the sweat, dirt, and grime off of my face-- but the flavor of the apple had somehow stayed with me; I was almost sure that it would remain with me forever-- I felt _a little _better, and yet I was still unsatisfied.

The wind began to man through the trees, and the skies grew dark and gray... A storm was approaching, so, I sought shelter under a nearby oak tree, buried my head in the palms of my hands, and soon fell asleep.

For the first time since entering the forest, I actually felt safe.

But little did I know that I was being watched.

_---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

The days slowly slipped away from me. I feasted upon berries three times a day, drank water whenever I felt thirst, and sleep under the oak tree whenever I became tired. My oasis was quite peaceful, yet dreadfully repetitive, and each day was exactly like the one before it. Some people simply cannot stand change, and as I remained in the oasis, frightened of what lay outside of it, I realized that although my little oasis was peaceful, it was quite dangerous to a slipping sane mind. Time passed; things did not change. A day might have gone by in the Godforsaken forest, maybe a week, maybe two, maybe a month, maybe a year, maybe a decade, maybe even a century. I'll probably never know how long I spent stuck in the Godforsaken place. One thing was sure. I despised it. Time was irrelevant there, and for some reason I kept on looking at the watch I wore around my wrist, hopeful that it would start working again with no batteries. But there were no miracles in the forest-- at least not for me. Everything was completely crazy, and as I began to regain my strength, my sanity began slipping away; I began to go mad. I was losing my feeble mind due to the loneliness and the self-pity, and the hatred I felt for those who had betrayed and hurt me, and the hunger for food _other _than the _deplorable _berries, and the thirst for something _other _than the stream-water which had begun to taste stale. I could not stand the horrors that I faced each day any longer... But I continued to live. I continued to live for the hell of it; for all I knew, a comet could crash land directly on me, and I wouldn't be made to suffer any longer.

I sat under _my _tree-- _(the entire forest belonged to me for all I knew, now,) _I sat there, my periwinkle robe caked with dirt, grass-stains, and dust, _I look like a mad woman, _I thought, and then the truth dawned on me; I burst out laughing, _(I laughed like this old woman who used to live down the street from us; she had been INSANE; she would start laughing and screaming at all hours of the night. From what I've heard, they threw her in the loony bin.) Maybe I AM a mad woman, _I thought, standing up, and walking over to the stream-- _my _stream.

_---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

I fell asleep; I woke up. I ate, I fell asleep, I woke up. I slept, I woke. It went on and on like clockwork-- and in vain, I kept on checking on the hands of the watch to see if they had moved since the last time I had checked-- sometimes forty-five seconds before.

I laughed. I cried. I ate berries, and drank water.

My body may have become stronger, but my mind had grown weaker.

_---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

"Why me?" I wondered, biting my lip until it bled, and I could taste the red blood that began gliding down my chin, "Why me?" I repeated, pulling blades of grass out of the ground, as the wind began to howl; ruffling my black hair, and my hospital gown. I screamed at the skies; knowing so well that my screams were useless.

No one could hear me now.

I was completely alone.

Alone and afraid.

_---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

"_A, B, C, D, E, F, G," _I sang under my breath, _"H, I, J, K, L, M, N, O, P, Q, R, S, T, U, V, W, X, Y, and Z," _I finished the silly school-song, and salty tears welled up in my eyes.

How had I been reduced to this mess?

_---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

I had finally finished the last song that I knew by heart, and there was no more that I could do; for the past three days, that's all that I had been doing; _singing-- _something I had once despised, but now it was the only thing to save me. Singing to keep the agony at bay... I had been reduced to less than nothing. I was an empty shell, and now-- now there was no use denying it. I was _insane, _"That's it!" I screamed, throwing a large handful of berries away, and into the stream; vexed by the plopping sound they made as they sunk to the bottom, **_"THAT'S THE LAST STRAW!" _**I roared, angry at the oasis, and the _disgusting _berries, and the stupid, frivolous singing birds that couldn't stop for one second just to acknowledge my deep misery-- angry at the entire _GODFORSAKEN forest, _and yet there was no one to care.I screamed, and I tore a handful of black hair from my scalp; I tossed it aside, wincing at the pain, as a single drop of blood trickled down my forehead. **_"HELP!" _**I screamed; the loudest that I had screamed since that night in the hospital.

But there was no one to hear me.

No one.

I had known this all along, but it hadn't really dawned on me until just now. Even if there _was _anything outside the forest, anyone who heard me hadn't bothered to help, and they wouldn't come now-- if there was anyone.

I stood there for nearly ten minutes, before I began to cry; hot, wet tears of sorrow streamed down my cheeks, '_They'll never find you,' _a familiar voice hissed in my head.

"I know," I replied out loud as if to my own conscience.

'_Just end the battle now.'_

I nodded; the tears continuing to stream down my cheeks, and there appeared on the ground a jagged stone, in the crude shape of a _dagger; 'There's no use standing around waiting for Jacqueline to find you. Give up. Just give up now,' _the voice whispered; its voice a strange and faint hiss.

And it made sense. The only thing that had made sense in my life for quite a while-- my half-life. I wanted to die, and the disembodied voice wanted me to die. If I could please both, then why not...? _'Give up,' _the voice repeated one last time.

I nodded, and bent down to pick up the dagger. I eagerly snatched it up; it felt heavy and smooth to the touch in my eager hand, and without hesitation, I raised it over my head. I brought it down; its sharp tip pointed at my chest; eagerly waiting to pierce my heart.

Death was the only escape now.

There were no other options.

I said a little prayer inside of my head for God to forgive me, but just as I was about to bring the dagger into my heart, a wrinkled hand grabbed my wrist; and the crude knife was knocked out of my grasp, and fell onto the ground.


	12. Found

_Chapter 11: Found_

I turned around angrily to face my savior, "Who did that?" I demanded, angrily, yet somewhat grateful for the strange someone's stoppage of the horrid deed that I had been mere seconds away from committing, in order to save myself from the horrors of my life-- of the forest, and the madness, and the hunger, and the thirst, _"Who did that?" _I screamed, my voice hoarse from all my shouting, and then, I found myself gazing into the twinkling blue eyes of my savior.

"I'm sorry, little one," the woman whispered, and I looked upon her form; my anger beginning to fade away. She was a bit taller than me, she wasn't too fat, and yet not too thin; she was somewhat in the middle of weights. She wore a robe somewhat similar to mine, though it was pale pink in color, and appeared to have been washed only this morning, making me feel like a total slob in the robe that clothed my aching body. Her grayish-auburn hair was tied in a tight bun. She smiled, and I tried my best to follow suit, despite the wretched circumstances that I was still under.

Everything that I had gone through, and I had at last been discovered. I didn't know if I was pleased or annoyed. The woman's sudden appearance somehow comforted me though.

She appeared to be in her mid forties, and she clutched a gnarled walking stick which seemed to have been taken from a tree branch of oak.

"Who are you?" I asked, having forgotten my anger entirely.

"My name is unimportant... But it's Elaine," she replied, smoothly, shuddering as a cold gust of wind whistled through the trees.

"It's a beautiful name," I replied truthfully, trying to avoid the subject of how she had found me.

Her rather pretty face suddenly contorted into a look of pure disgust and disdain-- though jokingly, _"Yuck!" _she exclaimed, "I _despise _the name… but, enough about me for now… tell me about yourself."

"I'm B--"

"_Beatrice Horowitz," _she interrupted, taking me by surprise; obviously deciding it best to change the subject again, and move on, "Shall we walk to my home?"

"Home?" I asked the strange woman, so eager to here the name uttered by another being, "Oh, let's!"

We walked on, until we came to a narrow path, (made of dirt,) that was cut through the grass. We followed the path until we came to a cottage. She opened the door, and bade me inside.


	13. Fairy Godmother

_Chapter 12: Fairy Godmother_

I stared at the old woman, full of uncertainty at her sudden intrusion into my sheltered life; _I shouldn't trust strangers so easily, _I thought, staring into her blue eyes; she smiled, understandingly, and raised her small walking stick as if to reinforce the invitation. I offered her a warm smile, bit back all uncertainty, and took a step into the small cottage. After all, she _had _saved my life-- there was no use denying it. There was some merit in that, wasn't there?

But all the same, Elaine showing up so suddenly, and without any warning of any kind was quite unnerving. But, I had no one else to trust, and if she ended up murdering me-- well, hadn't that been the whole point of the dagger? There could be no more regrets. I stepped over the threshold with little hesitation, all the while hoping against all hope that I would find no more misery here.

My first impression of the place was, and would remain limited to one word: _strange; _to be frank, there just was no other way to describe it; a spacious living-room with a few sitting-chairs, a kitchen, and a miniscule dining-table laden with strange books, papers, and dishes left over from breakfast... My eyes widened in surprise as I found tall bookshelves lined with thousands of books with titles written in strange languages, "It's so wonderful," I whispered, taking it all in, and wandering further.

"Thank you," she whispered, laying her walking stick down in a small corner, and following my gaze down the hall, "the second bedroom is yours... It gets lonely here. I haven't had any visitors here in years."

Without invitation, I walked closer towards the bookshelves; my eyes fell upon an dusty Encyclopedia-sized book entitled _Prophecies; _my hand inched towards it, but Elaine cut me short, "There will be much time for reading once you're settled in, and have had some decent food in your stomach."

I nodded, and returned my gaze to Elaine, and my smile widened as I discovered that she had already prepared a late lunch for the both of us.

_---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

After our afternoon meal, Elaine led me into the room that would serve as my bedroom for 'as long as I desired.' I smiled to myself; Elaine was the definition of a perfect grandmother-- all smiles and stories. She lay me down upon a feathered mattress, and handed me a goblet filled with a strange silver liquid.

"What is this?" I asked, sniffing it, and turning my nose up.

"A medicinal potion... You have many scars to heal-- on the interior and exterior as well. Drink it, and you will sleep untroubled."

"How do you know so much about me?" I asked, as the fragrance of the liquid crept into my nostrils.

"I just do."

I drank the strange drink, and slept for four days without waking.

_---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

When I woke on the fourth day, I found the empty goblet beside me on a small table, and I realized that Elaine's rescue hadn't been all a dream. I smiled, and tried to place my finger on what the potion had done to me as I had slept.

In the closet, I found a long summer dress. It was a bit old-fashioned for my taste, but what could you expect? Elaine probably hadn't had children-- teenagers with her in quite a while.

I quickly dressed, and found a small basin of cool water to wash my face in; she really had thought of everything.

When I came out of my bedroom, I found that Elaine was nowhere to be seen. A note amid the mess on the dining-table informed me that if I was hungry, there was food in the larder, and that Elaine would be back by the following week.

And it was then that I finally realized it.

The strange potion had done what nothing else had since my mother's death; it had repaired me-- restored me...

It had made me whole.

_---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

Elaine returned the following week as promised.

I had found a broom and had swept the cottage, and she was very pleased with me.

When I asked her where she had been, she simply changed the subject by saying that she would hurry up and fix breakfast-- although it was already eight o'clock at night.

And come to think of it, no matter how many times I asked her where she had been, she never told me.

_---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

As the minutes quickly became hours, and the hours in turn became days, I soon learned to love the old woman who had save me from myself more and more with each passing day. She became somewhat of a friend and mother to me; she fed me, clothed me, and even began teaching me French... I began to love the old woman-- the _only _friend I had known in a very long time.

Days were spent inside of her roomy cottage; us telling each-other of our past... I learned that she had spent her early childhood in England, and her father had been a merchant. During an outbreak of the plague, she had lost both her mother and father; her and her little sister had come here with a distant cousin almost thirty years ago.

It was then that I remembered a question I had been wondering for the longest time, "But where exactly is _here?" _I asked one day after she had finished another of her fascinating stories.

"You mean you don't know?" she asked, putting down the spoon that she had been stirring her porridge with.

I shook my head in reply, as I buttered a piece of toast, "My stepmother didn't exactly tell me where or when she was sending me, Elaine-- I thought you would have gathered that by now."

"Well," she began, resuming her feaverous stirring to cool the scalding hot meal, "the year is 1800."

" '_1800!' " _I repeated, hardly believing it, my jaw dropping to the floor, and the slightly brown piece of toast failing to reach my lips, "You mean we're in the nineteenth century?"

She nodded, nonplused in her reply, "And this country is called D'Nalge."

" '_D' Nalge?' " _I repeated; my appetite suddenly forgotten in all the confusion, "What is that? French?"

"Not exactly."

"Well, pardon me, dear Elaine, but... I'm pretty sure I never heard of a country called _'D'Nalge' _on the earth before... or in the universe for that matter. Just tell me the truth. Jacqueline was a scheming bitch, but she didn't have magical powers of any sort-- otherwise, she would have killed me with one spell."

"People can have those powers and choose not to use them-- no matter how much they wish to. Jacqueline was careful," a small smile formed upon her small lips, "and this isn't exactly the earth either, my dear child."

My head was swimming with all of the nonsense I had just heard, "Are you trying to tell me that my stepmother not only sent me over two-hundred years back in time-- which is already hard enough to believe-- but to another world as well?"

She nodded in reply, "But that's still not all, Beatrice."

"Oh, really, don't tell me!" I closed my eyes in mock concentration, "You're my dead father in disguise."

"No, I'm your fairy godmother."


	14. Secrets

_Chapter 13: Secrets_

My jaw immediately dropped to the floor for a second time in five minutes, as I began to laugh uncontrollably, "I-I'm so sorry," I whispered, wiping a few tears away from my eyes when I'd at last finished, "But, God! That was just-- just-- just so _funny! _Not only did you nearly convince me that I've been sent to some place called D'Nalge, and it's 1800... You also claimed that you're my fairy godmother! I'm not five, Elaine. This is no fairy tale, y'know. But I must admit, you've got a pretty great sense of humor,"I blinked the remaining tears out of my eyes; picked up the piece of toast, and resumed breakfast; Elaine, however, looked quite concerned, "Now, if you wouldn't mind, Elaine, could you start at the beginning and provide me with a truthful tale?"

She stared at me for a moment, with eyes as wide as a deer in front of headlights; obviously surprised by my previous statement and reaction, "Dear me," she whispered, "I knew that you would not believe me at first, but I wasn't expecting anything at all like _that."_

I swallowed what remained of the toast in my mouth, and nearly choked, as her intense gaze gradually became more and more serious, "You-- you're not _serious, _are you?"

She nodded; I dropped my toast again.

_Uh-oh, _I suddenly thought, rising from the table, _this bitch is crazy! Fairies? What next? Is she going to claim that she's my long lost nephew, or is she going to pull out a nice little knife, and kill me...? Oh, why was I foolish enough to trust her?_

"Look, Beatrice," she whispered calmly; her steady voice rising with each syllable, "I am telling you nothing but the truth. I swear it."

"Of course you are," I whispered, deciding it best to play along with the maniac until I could find a safe way to flee, "and I believe you. Just don't hurt me or anything." _What am I going to do? _I wondered, slowly backing away towards the door, and noticing the heavy walking stick that stood in a corner; _Is she going to beat me to death with that thing...? _I wondered, dryly.

"Beatrice, I know that you don't believe me," she suddenly whispered, as if reading my thoughts.

_How does she know? _I thought, wildly, looking around the small room for some sort of a weapon to defend myself... perhaps a knife or something-- even a hairpin-- _anything _that would save me from her

"Just sit down again, my dear Beatrice. Sit down, and I promise that I'll explain everything. You aren't safe without me."

"I'd rather the oasis than here with a madwoman," I replied, firmly.

"Sit down, Beatrice."

"No."

"_Sit down, Beatrice," _she whispered, rising from her seat; her voice no longer soothing or understanding, _"Now." _she finished, almost angrily, and my eyes widened in surprise as my body was suddenly heaved across the room, and I landed back safely in my chair; Elaine was somehow holding the walking stick now.

"Now do you believe me?" she asked, almost exasperatedly, as she took her seat next to me.

I hesitated for a moment, before nodding; it was pretty much useless trying to avoid her now. She sighed, "Beatrice, there is much that you do not understand... I, myself, have lived for over five-hundred years, and there is still much that is a mystery to me. But I _do _know one thing; the fairies and the shaska have been mortal enemies for hundreds... thousands... millions of years. Some say eons even. The woman whom you came to know as Jacqueline was in fact a shaska."

She paused for dramatic effect; almost as if expecting me to gasp or scream; I remained silent for a moment, processing the words she had just said, "Wh-Wh-What's a-a _shaska,_ did you say?" I asked; still a little shaky, after having experienced magic firsthand; her intense gray eyes widened at my lack of knowledge, _So, magic is real..._

"You don't even know what they are?" she asked, putting a comforting arm around my shoulder; I shook it away, and then shook my head in response to the ridiculous question she had just posed; ten minutes ago, I hadn't even believed in magic-- did she think that I'd have some deep understanding of everything now?

She remained silent, until I finally asked, "Well, what are they?"

Her booming voice had suddenly become as meek as mine, "You don't even know that it was a shaska that killed both your mother and father?"

I stared at her for a moment, angrily; taken aback at the mention of my parents, "You're wrong," I finally answered after a long moment of uncomfortable silence, "_Jacqueline _killed my father, remember? My mom just... just... _died."_

I looked out the window, at the bright sunshine, the forest and beyond; tears streaming down my cheeks. It had been so long since I had had a real family. Now, both my parents were dead, and I had somehow been banished from my remaining family and friends-- and all because of that whoring bitch, Jacqueline. _Jacqueline-- _everything-- well, nearly everything was somehow connected back to her. I closed my eyes to stop the flow of tears, "It's just not fair," I murmured, deciding to open them at last.

"I know," she whispered, as I wiped the last tear away with my sleeve, and turned to face my fairy godmother as she continued her story, "A shaska is a false-face," she whispered, "they live their lives to simply kill for both youth and eternity; in the process, gaining the life-force of the slain-- becoming even stronger. This is why Jacqueline married your father."

She paused, as if frightened that I would start crying again; my face remained dry, "She told me afterwards that I would not understand the reason..." I drifted off, "Go on," I whispered.

My fairy godmother nodded, before going on, "They are somewhat like a succubus, for they bewitch only to destroy. Your mother was killed by a shaska; your father was possessed while they were making love, and his cold touch caused her to fall into a deep sleep from which she would never wake again. This is what they live for, and they have very special reasons for destroying your family as well... I don't mean to alarm you, but your grandmother-- feeble and drugged as she is-- she is in great danger as well, Beatrice. Now that you're here especially."

I shook the image of my grandmother's corpse out of my mind, "But how is all of this true?" I asked, after the twangs of guilt at the losses of my parents-- and impending loss of my grandmother had subsided, "It barely makes any sense, but I actually believe you... I guess it's because my life has been so fucked up ever since that night when _she _came-- before that even," my voice was now shrill, as tears once again began flowing freely, as if they were a waterfall. She put her arm around my shoulder; this time I did not shake it away, and we embraced; me feeling deeply ashamed for ever having had doubted this kind woman, "But, Elaine, why me...? Why did they choose _our_ family?"

She shook her head, "There are reasons-- many, actually. But for now, I cannot answer that question. It would put the both of us into grave danger-- we're already in enough-- especially you. The shaska is the most powerful and deadly being in all of existence. Their face is but a mask, used to conceal their true grotesque form. When--"

"But why was I allowed to survive?" I suddenly interrupted; my brain now buzzing with questions, "If Jacqueline was so keen on killing me at first, then why did she end up sending me here-- to D'Nalge?"

"She had her reas--" she stopped speaking; her eyes rolled into the back of her head, and she looked like she was having a seizure, "Elaine!" I screamed, panicked, "Elaine!"

Suddenly, she returned to normal; her blue eyes glowing strangely, "Hurry, Beatrice. We must leave the cottage-- now. You are no longer safe here. She is coming for you; we must go to REH--"

Then a knock came on the door, and my fairy godmother spun around; ending our embrace; facing the door; her blue eyes now glowing red, "It is Jacqueline," she hissed, "Hide somewhere... Whatever you do, don't look back," I hesitated, "Hide!"

And without being able to ask any more questions, I stood up from the table, and ran into my bedroom; opening the door that led into the closet, I crept inside, and slowly let it creak shut... My heart was now beating wildly, and I was perspiring and breathing heavily-- wondering all along it this were all a terrible dream, _How did she find me? _I wondered, frightened; enveloped in the darkness of the closet; _How did she find me so easily...? _I fell silent, closed my eyes, prayed for calm, and waited for what would conspire.


	15. Discovered

_Chapter 14: Discovered _

There I stood; still as a statue... silent; as soundless as I could possibly be given the situation and the way that everything had happened so very quickly. I heard every sound around me-- every _whisper; _I was alert.

I stood in silence for what seemed like a century, before an angry voice penetrated the dark silence of the world, **_"GIVE ME THE CHILD!" _**Jacqueline's voice roared from somewhere just outside the door to the cottage; and though I had not seen her in well over a year (save for the memories and the dreams), her voice still sent eerie chills up my spine, and my heart instantly froze in my chest. Just like that night in the hospital when my life had been changed forever; Jacqueline wasn't full of crap right now. She meant business, and she wanted me to die.

"You'll never find her here," my fairy godmother whispered, trying to sound confident, although I knew she did not believe this in the least-- neither did I.

Jacqueline laughed, "Where is Beatrice?" she asked, her voice becoming more demanding and impatient with each syllable.

"Don't flatter yourself anymore, Jacqueline... You won't find her here."

**_"WHERE IS SHE?" _**And then, the world was filled with hundreds upon hundreds of strange sounds; the wood of the door being broken open, a body being heaved to the floor. Grunts and screams... it was such an unnecessary commotion that I could barely restrain myself from throwing all cautions to the wind, and joining in.

Elaine's breaths were heavy as Jacqueline continued to speak; I knew that she was dying-- and fast, "What, Elaine? Do you honestly think that that moth ridden old thing will actually save you now?" she asked, her voice filled with mirth at seeing that she was winning, and I felt all my hopes dashed, as my fairy godmother's walking stick was broken in half, "Just bring me the child," Jacqueline hissed; tossing the broken halves of the walking stick to the floor, and laughing as they clattered noisily, "Bring her now, and I promise you that I'll kill you last-- and I won't enjoy the deed as much," and I could tell from more than a hundred feet away that Jacqueline had raised her eyebrow-- the left one to try to seal the deal.

"You don't frighten me, _Quenilecauj," _Elaine hissed, and then, I shuddered again, as I realized why the evil woman had entered my life for a second time; _She's come to kill me. _I thought; _She's come to finish the job! _And I was trapped; I had known that Jacqueline would come again; her cold words echoed in my mind again; _'I'll be back for you.' _She had kept her promise at least; I smiled, grimly, trying not to let my panic worsen, although frightening thoughts would not stop entering my mind… _There's no way out, _a voice echoed in my head, _She'll get to you… she's the big, scary monster, and you're the child… trapped in the closet; waiting to be devoured. _Hot, wet tears of frustration began pouring down my pale cheeks, and I nodded to the invisible speaker; she was right. Today would be my last day alive.

****

**_"TELL ME WHERE SHE IS!" _**an inhuman voice suddenly roared; its sound reverberating; bouncing off of the very walls of the cottage, and then echoing back in my brain even one thousand times louder; just hearing it gave me a headache. My head felt like it had been sliced in half; _The voice of the shaska, _I thought, shuddering once again-- everything had changed so quickly. Just ten minutes ago, I had been sitting with Elaine, learning about the shaska-- and now Jacqueline had reappeared. Could it be a coincidence? Elaine must have known; that's why she had told me that we were leaving-- and there had been a name. She had uttered a name, but had been cut off. What had that name been? It had started with an 'R.' I smacked my forehead; if Elaine had had that seizure-thing five-- ten minutes before, we could have been safe somewhere, as opposed to being killed by Jacqueline... _I wonder if it'll be painful, _I thought, my head swimming, and then I realized the painful truth. I didn't care anymore. Jacqueline could kill me. It didn't matter. Sure, being murdered in cold blood by my worst enemy wasn't the ideal way to spend a nice afternoon-- but it _had _been inevitable-- ever since I had been sent to D'Nalge. Jacqueline spoke again, _"Or _I shall find her myself. Your choice. Either way, she dies. She _must _die. You know that."

"Frightened of a child, Jacqueline?" my fairy godmother suddenly whispered; clearly mustering up false bravery from an unknown source; I could tell that Jacqueline didn't buy it, "That's just not like you."

There was a moment of silence before Jacqueline answered, "You know that she is a threat to--"

_A threat to what? _I wondered, as my fairy godmother suddenly cut her off, "You're nothing but a coward, Jacqueline-- what can I say? As long as I've known of you, I've always known this."

"How you think of me does not matter. You're nothing, Elaine. You never were; if you give me the child willingly... Who knows? Perhaps, I shall allow you to live-- _for a little while; _lead the way to Beatrice, and I'll have my followers come here tonight, and murder you peacefully in your sleep-- I'll even let you leave D'Nalge. Who knows? It might be fun tracking you down. So, answer this, Elaine: _Where is she?"_

"That child is safe while--"

"That's right, Elaine... Beatrice is safe _as long as you're alive." _

Elaine, finally defeated, used her last defense, "Sh-She's dead," my fairy godmother said, stumbling over the words; I shook my head at her stupidity. Even a toddler wouldn't believe this.****

****

_"No- she- isn't- but- she- _will- _be- when- I'm- through- with- her. As dead as her father. As dead as her mother. _As dead as you!"

To my surprise, Elaine suddenly let out a bloodcurdling scream that caused my heart to drop into my stomach. I realized that I could not save her; Jacqueline had won the battle-- again. "No," I murmured, gently; hardly louder than a whisper. Jacqueline laughed, and pretty soon, my fairy godmother's screams ended so suddenly it was as if someone had hit the mute button on the TV-- her life had been cut short. I had not expected this. Everything that had happened today had seemed like a dream; I hadn't expected Jacqueline to actually _kill _Elaine; maybe Jacqueline had already sensed where I was in the cottage... She had the powers, after all. Jacqueline's laughs soon subsided, and I fell to my knees in fright, "Beatrice," Jacqueline's voice echoed sweetly; the same sweet voice I had known and loathed for so long in my life, "Come child. We can go home together. Hurry; the mortal world is practically at our feet. Come with me. Your mummy and daddy are waiting for you. They've been waiting for a very long time, remember?"

I shook my head, angrily, and the door that led into the bedroom gently creaked open, as Jacqueline took a slight step inside, "Beatrice?" she called from the threshold, as her blue eyes darted about the small room; she frowned for a moment, and then, just as quickly, it became a fake smile again. I could tell that she was just as conniving as ever, for I could see part of her form from the spaces in between the wood that made up the door; _She hasn't changed at all-- it figures, _I realized, dumbly, as her red lips opened once again, "You don't want to keep them waiting, do you?"

_Leave me alone, _I thought, frightened, _Don't see me-- I don't exist anymore. I'm dead. I'm dead. Don't find me here. _

"I know you're here somewhere, Beatrice... Don't play little games with me. I mean it. Do you really want to keep your parents waiting?" and I stared at her sweet face, and suddenly, my terrified thoughts were pushed to the back of my mind, as my lips formed a wide, stupid smile, "Mom? Dad?" I asked, my voice hardly higher than a slight whisper; actually _believing _the utter _lies _that Jacqueline told, or at least _wanting _to believe them. Here she was; just outside my closet door; her back was now facing me, and she was offering me what I had _hungered _for for so very long… she had the powers, and she could resurrect my parents… we could live happily ever after… it was as simple as the black, lacy dress that she wore. My mind was filled with images of the utopia in which my parents and I could live together forever; I wanted so much to believe her lies, but in the end, my commonsense caved in, as it always had, _She's lying… _I thought, _…Nothing but _filthy _lies are coming out of her _scum-filled _mouth! "No," _I said, finally.

_Damn! _I thought; my tiny sound had caught her attention. I buried my face in the palms of my hands as a last attempt oa actually elude her, but I could not, for she whipped around; facing me, "Beatrice! My child! Are you hiding?" she asked, walking towards me, each step she took echoing in my ears one hundred times louder than they would have normally; I felt like I was choking. I couldn't breathe anymore... _She_ was choking me; I gasped for breath... It was another spell, "It's all right, child... There is no need to be frightened-- not anymore," she whispered, walking nearer and nearer towards me, "Elaine _had _to die, sweetie. She was a nuisance; a little fly buzzing in my ear. She was a troublemaker."

The spell ended; I could breathe again. I breathed in the fragrance of the musty closet deeply; realizing that this would be one of my last breaths. I whimpered at the sound of her false voice which was still trying to trick me; _She's just like a siren! _I finally realized; shuddering at the thought of the women from The Odyssey.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are!" Her long black fingernails gently clicked as they came into contact with the metal knob of the door; her sweetness now gone; the ruse had been seen through-- as it always had, "Come out, _now, _Beatrice! The game is ended, and now you must _die!" _

"Please," I whispered; nearly pleading, "Please just leave me alone."

"I'll never leave you alone until I see your pale face six feet under in the cold ground... rotting-- just like your father," she hissed, "Come out _now!" _

**_"NO!" _**I screamed at the woman who had caused my life so much pain; I no longer wished to die. I was going to fight. Jacqueline wouldn't win this time.

"I promise that your death won't be too very painful. Maybe it'll be like your mother's… the little whore that she was."

"Don't call her that!" I screamed, "You never knew her!"

"You don't know _anything, _do you, Beatrice?" and then, the bitch laughed; causing my blood to boil; _I need to get out of here, _I thought; looking around the closet to find an escape, **_"FUCK YOU!" _**I screamed; trying to sound confident and calm, as my back hit the wood that paneled the back of the closet, _hard! _But as soon as my back had come in contact with the wood, it seemed to melt away, and the next thing I knew, I found myself on my back in a totally different room; a strange room that I had not seen the likes of in what seemed like centuries; it was large and roomy with piles of boxes covering the bulk of the dusty floor; everything was coated with a lair of brown dust, and it appeared to be evening, for no light streamed in through the old window that was raised high above the floor; I stood up; the place looked familiar, though I knew I had never set foot in it before. It was pitch black; I blinked, as Jacqueline began screaming at me again. Somehow, I knew that I was now safe.

My heart began beating with less and less ferocity, as I slowly calmed myself down, and repeated over and over in my head that I was safe; all the while trying to ignore Jacqueline's persistent screams of, **_"BEATRICE! YOU HORRID SCUM BAG! YOU RETURN TO ME THIS INSTANT!" _**

****

She paused, as if expecting to hear me clamoring back to her, instead I gave the wall that led back to her the finger, and then she spoke, as if discovering my weakness; "Beatrice, I'll kill your father if you don't come out."

"You can take your bag of tricks elsewhere, Jacqueline. They don't work anymore on me," and then I felt my anger reach a new high, and I roared, **_"HE'S ALREADY DEAD! YOU KILLED HIM, YOU EVIL WHORE!" _**

****

"I _knew _that she would help you live! That's what fairies are. Meddlers. Helping you escape to the mortal world! Let me in!" she screamed, as she rushed into the closet, and began pounding on the wood of the back of the closet with her fists; and with each pound, the room shook violently. Boxes were knocked over; their contents spilling out onto; I was heaved to the floor once again.

"I'll never give up, you pig!" I screamed at her, "I'm not a child anymore! I'll keep my own mind, get out of my life, you whore. Go to hell!"

"I'll leave you… _for now. _I can not get to you. For I cannot penetrate the portal… the magic in this cottage has already begun to cancel my own out. Elaine might have been an interfering bitch, but I must admit she was a powerful sorceress. You're safe, Beatrice Horowitz-- but not for long. And I'll wait… I'll wait to cut open your tender little throat, and watch the blood pour out with ecstatic eyes… _I can wait. _Time is not of the essence here; but you can bet that you'll lie dead in the forest by the morrow," and then, with the echoing sound of her laughter, she disappeared in a cloud of red smoke, or so I reckoned.

I lay down my head in silence, and then I began to cry; my warm tears trickled down my cheeks and onto the floor; mixing with the brown dust, and creating a disgusting brown liquid.

_I'm not safe... I'm not safe anymore, _I realized; _Everything I touch dies; how many more will die? _I wondered, and a small voice answered in the back of my mid, making perfect sense to me; _Many. _

But all that mattered was that I was safe-- as safe as I could be; I had escaped Jacqueline for the second time in my life, and I would make sure I never gave her the chance to kill me again; I yawned. I couldn't believe I was tired now; so much had happened today, though, and I was worn out.

I closed my eyes, and slept.

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I had not realized how tired I was that evening, for I slept for many hours. Sleep had overcome me, and I had slept a blank sleep. There were no thoughts-- no dreams-- no nightmares. My strength was brought back to me, and I awoke on what I believed to be the third day; my eyes snapping open at the sound of a honking car-horn a few miles away... a sound which I had believed to be dead to me forever; I felt a icy cold stab in the very center of my heart as I remembered what had happened to Elaine right under my nose... _It's all my fault... _

But I couldn't blame myself. Jacqueline had killed her. I hadn't. It was as simple as that; she would want me to blame myself. Blaming myself would bring about disorientation once again. She wanted me weak.

My dark hair was matted to my forehead with swear, and I let out a groan, as I saw that golden sunlight was streaming in through the cracked, filthy window; burning my pale face.

I stood up; feeling woozy, as if I had been doped up right after being knocked out, or something to that extent; _She's almost killed me… _again, I thought, staring around at my familiar, yet unfamiliar surroundings. I walked over to the nearest box that had not been toppled over in Jacqueline's blind rage, only to find it empty; realizing at once where I was; a modern-day attic.

_This must be the earth again, _I realized; feeling queasy. My stomach was empty, but I felt like I was about to throw up. I found a small mirror hanging on the graying walls, and I found that my eyes were red and puffy-- I must have been crying while I slept, _Weird, _I thought, taking a step back from the mirror, and deciding that time could no longer be wasted standing idly by. I had to get ready-- though for what, I was still unsure. That was still in the distant future.

I walked over from box to box, searching for items. Though many were empty, others were full to the brim with useful items. Here's what I found; a shiny dagger, a pocketknife, an old necklace with a beautiful, dull stone set into a golden frame, and a small piece of rope. I set the objects before me, and held the stone; it was freezing cold, but it warmed at my touch, and sensing its power, I fastened it around my neck, and found an old quilt in which I put the remaining objects into. I tied it up with a knot, hoisted the small bundle over my shoulder, and walked over to the wall. Saying a small prayer in my mind that I would not find Jacqueline on the other side-- or any of her 'followers' as she had referred to the other shaskas, I passed through it, and into the closet; not risking a single glance out of the window, for who knew what sort of street that I would find? Any would seriously make me homesick quite easily. When I had exited my bedroom, I stole into the kitchen, and took some provisions from the nearly bare shelves of the larder; there wasn't much; only a small loaf of bread, some cheese, and a few apples; I hesitated for a moment with taking them with me, but after deciding that the apples _were _food, I threw them into the knapsack, and retied it. After having exited the cottage, I crossed the path, journeyed into the woods, and did not stop until I had come to my oasis. It was much too dangerous to stay in my now dead fairy godmother's cottage, whose body I had found sprawled on the living-room floor. I had kissed her already cold blue lips, as a thank-you, and had come to find refuge once again in the forest; her blue eyes had been open-- staring up at me; almost accusingly. I had gently closed them so that they could look upon the horrible world no longer. I hoped that she could forgive me-- wherever she was now.

Her broken walking stick had mysteriously disappeared.

I came to my tree, sat beneath its shade, and waited for what was to come. Whatever would happen, I hoped that I would be ready.


	16. Lost, Again

_Chapter 15: Lost, Again_

_My father takes my pale gloved hand in his, and without a word exchanged between the two of us, begins to spin me about the crowded ballroom; couples hopping aside each time we approach them. Everyone is happy; there is music, dancing, food and drink. There is no Jacqueline. There is no pain. No sadness. My beautiful mother stands in a corner, watching us dance; holding a long and elegant fan to hide her face... At long last, this is our night; I smile; happy that my father and mother have at long last returned to me, and that there will be many more nights like this in our never ending future. I look down at my garb, and find that instead of wearing rags, I am totally decked out in a silvery ball-gown that appears to be from the late seventeen-hundreds. I smile at its beauty, and look up at my father, who is beaming at me. "Isn't it a lovely night?" I ask him, and he nods. We continue to dance in happy silence, but a young man is watching us from another corner in the large room, and for some reason, he is envious of our happiness. Suddenly, without any warning, he appears beside us, and wrenches my hand from out of my father's, and begins to whirl and twirl me about the glittering ballroom as the thousands of guests watch; in ecstasy, they begin to applaud as if it some beautiful dance, but it isn't. I call out my father's name, but he is gone-- disappeared into the crowd-- he has abandoned me-- _again; _I call for my mother, but she is gone as well. _

_ I fight to get away from my new dance partner, but I cannot, for he easily overpowers me. The only word I can find to express what is happening to me is rape. I cannot escape from him; I spin around and around the room until I become dizzy, and then I am somehow heaved across the room, and into the arms of the King. I beg for his help, but he seems deaf, and laughs, full of mirth. His pealing laughter blocks out my pleas, and I begin to despise his pompous appearance and manner. He dances with me in the same crazed fashion, while the applause intensifies. We dance until he becomes bored, and then he throws me into his son's arms... the cycle goes on and on again. They laugh at me; they kiss my neck; they scream my name tauntingly. _

_ And then, the doors of the ballroom burst open, and it is Jacqueline herself who stands in the doorway. _

_ She spots me in the very center of the place, and smiles cruelly. And then she is somehow right beside me. I call out for help-- that she will surely kill me, but everyone seems deaf. I stare at Jacqueline, and scream at the sight of her. She had somehow sprouted scaly, devilish pearly white wings, and they slowly flap with each breath she takes in. The smile upon her beautiful face widens, as she grabs both of my hands; crushing them with such a power I had never thought possible-- even in fairy tales or mythology; the guests of the ball laugh, wildly, while I scream louder and louder as she and I fly away up to the top of the domed ceiling. The guests continue to applaud, and I feel as if I will throw up at any second-- but she will not let me go, and I know this. I know that she will _never _let me go. Jacqueline takes a clawed hand, and slips it into the pocket of my dress, and a moment later, she pulls out a gnarled tree-branch; fruitless of both leaves and life. She smiles, and the branch springs to life; becoming a strange, twisted green serpent. I scream at it, and the guests suddenly disappear, and I am alone at last with her; this is the moment she has been waiting for. The serpent opens its mouth, revealing a forked red tongue, on which a ripe, red apple sits upon. She plucks the red apple, and it instantly turns black at her touch. She forces the fruit into my mouth, and without the chance to fight, I choke to death, and fall to the floor, all the while hearing her laughter... _

_--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- _

I awoke from the dream in a terrible cold sweat, and realizing that after such a long time, I was now back in my prison; the horrid oasis to which I was now confined once again-- doomed to never escape from it. For who knew what lay outside of the oasis, and inside that _dreadful _forest? There could be beasts waiting to devour me, or vines wishing to strangle me, or even trees that would fall and crush me-- or Jacqueline herself waiting-- constantly waiting. This is what truly kept me there. Knowing that it would be unwise to take anymore chances, now that _she _ha followed me to D'Nalge; waiting for my imminent re-arrival; for though the naturally occurring aspects of nature frightening-- far-fetched as some were, they were pale in comparison to Jacqueline.

I looked around my surroundings, though it appeared to be either very late at night or early morning, my surroundings were _much too _bright; I found the yellow moon caused the glow. I could not sleep. And the nightmare that had awoken me kept me awake for the next week.

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I blinked sleep out of my eyes; knowing that if I slept I would once again be in the danger of revisiting all of my own horrors in my nightmares. Despite myself, I yawned; _You haven't slept all week... _a small voice whispered in the back of my mind; _What _real _danger is there in a nightmare? _

_ Maybe you're right, _I answered the voice, as a voice hissed my name in the darkness; I did not care. This always seemed to happen at night, and whether or not the voice was real or imaginary, I didn't fear it. I knew I was safe in my oasis, and without bothering to open my eyes again, I was asleep.

It truly was a mistake.

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_I stare into the mirror to find a grinning reflection staring right back at me-- though it is not my own, "You are beautiful," a voice whispers in the darkness, and the gaze of the mirror shifts from my friend, and I once again find myself in its cool depths. I instantly discover that she is right. _

_ "Thank you," I whisper; allowing Jacqueline a curt nod, before returning to combing my hair with the silver comb that my father has given me; each stroke a part of me grows happier-- with each stroke, more and more, I don the mask of perfection. "You always were a beautiful child," Jacqueline continues, "if--" _

_ "I know," I interrupt her, laying the silver comb down on the small bureau in front of me, "Hurry, or we shall be late for the ball," without hearing her objections, I slip pale cream-colored gloves over my smooth hands, and step out into the cool night air, and the golden glow of the moon; it reveals that I am once again wearing the beautiful flowing silver dress; I gaze up at the manor, and beam at its splendor, "Hurry, Jacqueline," I call from outside, returning my gaze to the road that leads into the forest. _

_ "The ball does not matter," she hisses from behind me. _

_ I laugh at her stupidity, "The ball is everything." _

_ "Maybe to me, but not to you," she whispers, and before I can turn around to question her, I find that she has grabbed the silver comb from off of the table, and has plunged it into my back; I fall to the floor, bleeding to death..._

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I woke the following morning, regretting the fact that I had allowed myself to fall asleep; I was scared out of my wits, and even though parts of the dream were now hazy, and I knew that the dream was completely harmless, I still feared it. I heaved a heavy sigh; stood up, and drank deeply from the pool of water. My stomach growled; everything was going wrong, as it had before. The many apples I had taken with me had somehow spoiled in the cool shade, and the bread became tale, while the cheese had molded through and through nearly overnight; thus, I was once again forced to devour the disgusting berries, and although I had been on my own again for only about a week right now, it seemed like centuries.

I put my face into my hands, and cried; it seemed to be the only thing that helped ease the pain. I was lost for a second time, and I knew that this time, there would be no fairy godmother to save me.


	17. Found, Again

_Chapter 16: Found, Again_

As the days passed by very quickly, before I knew it, I had lost track of time once again; as it began to seem to slip through my fingers like grains of sand on a beach-- and one day was no longer decipherable from the previous-- or from the following. The insanity was beginning to return to me, and though not to the same extent as it had manifested before in the past; instead, it seemed to settle down, as if considering itself a permanent visitor. I was subject to mild insane outbursts every now and then, but for the most part, I was still myself, and I began to despise both myself and the insanity equally; considering them to be separate, and yet the same.

I simply loathed the madness that coursed through my veins-- my entire body-- my very soul, and existence; devouring everything in sight, and making my existence more and more miserable and unhappy with each passing second, but at least I was no longer suicidal. I knew that there was still at least some hope-- I had been saved once, surely I could be saved again. I told myself this over and over to comfort myself, and to keep the madness quiet. Otherwise, I would have been a drooling maniac. I didn't want that for myself ever again. I didn't want to be the Beatrice that Elaine had found in the oasis all that time ago, but it grew increasingly difficult.

Time passed.

I soon forgot who I was; being lost for a second time was taking its course on my mind as it had once before. All of the grief and sadness that I had experienced in the last five years returned to me-- becoming my entire life. If I were to scream, no one would hear me. If I were to bleed, there was no one to come to my aid, and give me comfort.

And the dreams also continued...

They all seemed to revolve around the very forest in which I was imprisoned, and Jacqueline, and a nameless ball that had never been held... The dreams frightened me, for they were a constant-- the only frightening occurrences within the oasis that were sure to never let up... Sometimes, the dreams were forgotten by the morning, while others would continue to haunt me for weeks on end.

An entire year passed in this fashion before I was saved for a second time; and when I would be rescued again, more tragedy would ensue-- but I did not know this. I could not know this.

I was still so naive.

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The day dawned warm and bright on that day upon which my life was shattered once again, and I was saved by a second stranger.

I had just finished a long drink from the stream, and had begun a small breakfast of the bitter berries, which I had grown quite accustomed to, though my actions were quite forced-- your normal day-- suddenly, however, my actions were broken by an annoying song in the form of a high-pitched whistle.

My first thoughts were that Jacqueline had finally discovered my whereabouts, and that she would at last kill me; I rummaged about the ground, and found the dagger I had kept from the attic. I held it outward; ready to stab Jacqueline, when she-- but then, as I listened a tad bit more carefully to the whistle, and realized that Jacqueline's return was impossible, for the voice that produced the whistle was far too low, and not nearly as tone-deaf as the one that belonged to the hateful bitch, I closed my eyes; concentrating on the merry tune-- and attempting to place it, for it sounded quite familiar to me.

The tune was quite happy and gay; it reminded me of a lullaby that my mother had sung to me up until the time I was about five.

I stared.

A girl had entered my oasis.

She was very tall and slender; my age, perhaps a year or two my elder. She had a look about her that clearly red arrogance, and yet, I remained unsure about what it was that she could _possibly _be haughty about, _She must have money, _I thought, as she was quite ugly; a homely looking thing. She clutched a very large basket close to her flat chest, and her mousy brown hair was tied up in a knot. She wore a loose-fitting summer dress that helped-- but didn't hide the fact that she was lacking in the chest area. She laughed at the sight of me, and after a moment's hesitation, I gave her a kind smile; relieved that _someone_, at least had wandered into my life-- even by accident.

She looked down at my stained face, and stared at the berries in my hands with an upturned nose, "Don't tell me that you've actually been eating those things _raw," _she remarked, with a smirk, walking towards me, and gesturing towards the berry-bush.

"It's not like there's any means of cooking them," I replied, bluntly, already vexed by the girl's attitude, and shoving a small handful of berries into my open mouth.

"You sure are a filthy little thing," she whispered, looking me up and down with her dull brown eyes, "Tell you what. Pick me a basketful of those berries for the jam, and I'll bring you home to my mother and father. You're _just what _they've been looking for."

I stared at her; somewhat surprised by her bluntness, as she thrust the basket into my chest-- it was empty, "Do it now," she commanded, taking pleasure in bossing me around.

_Who does she think she is? _I wondered, annoyed, and stopping myself from rolling my eyes. If I did not follow her commands, I could end up in the oasis for another decade, so instead of retaliating, I simply nodded and obeyed.

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After I had at last picked for her a satisfactory basketful of berries, she led the way out of the oasis, and down a narrow path I had never seen before, "Father just _loves _a good Royal Jam," she was saying; and though I was barely listening, for I was still confused about what I was so "perfect" for, and tried to ask-- though every time I attempted to interrupt, she would start talking even louder as if she hadn't heard me-- she probably liked the way her voice sounded, though I was not sure why.

On the way back to her "modest" home, the girl revealed her name to be Jessica-- not bothering to learn mine, and then passed the rest of the time by launching into a _very _boring, and _very _tedious story about her _stupid _family, and how _rich _they were.

I yawned throughout her boring story; nodding and shaking my head when the right time came; after this had ended, she began talking about how her father had hired three seamstresses to make the dress that she was wearing right now-- and wasn't it simply _gorgeous-- _and how much did I think it cost; I pretended to be mildly interested.

Her _long _story _finally _ended when I first caught sight of her "modest" home, which turned out to be a sprawling four-story mansion. She frowned at the sight of it, and I looked at her skeptically; had it been _my _home, had _I _a roof over _my _head, and one so large… I would have been _thrilled._

I beamed at the sight of it, and followed her inside.


	18. Family Politics

_Chapter 17: Family Politics _

The door to the mansion slowly slammed shut, and I took an eager step over the threshold, after having been given a prompt nod by my companion. Upon entering the mansion, I blinked; my eyes trying to become more accustomed to the dark room-- after all of that burning sunshine.

A permanent smile had been glued to my face which would not waver or dissipate; here I was, indoors-- _indoors, _of all places! And after thinking that I would never be there again-- after an entire year or more of being stuck in the oasis, I was indoors; the horrid _stench _of 'fresh air' as it was deemed was now gone, and the mansion smelled fresh-- _Like spring, _I noted, as my eyes became more used to the light, and I was able to catch my first glimpse of my brand-new home.

It was neat and tidy; everything had its own place, and there was such an air of wealth to the place, that I could hardly restrain myself from inquiring how much money the girl had; she had probably told me during our journey here, but I had pretty much zoned out, so I didn't bother to question her. She suddenly clapped a hand on my shoulder-- _hard; _I nearly buckled underneath her strength, "Follow me," she whispered, as the stone around my neck burned, and my shoulder throbbed. I nodded; unsure if she had noticed my curt head movement.

I followed her into the living-room, down a hallway, and then up a long, narrow flight of stairs. By the time we at last reached the top (what I suspected was the third story), I was both panting and perspiring from the long journey, while my acquaintance remained unchanged, for she had moved up the stairs in such a quick and timely fashion, that I suspected she had been taught how to do so in some drill; and yet, she was perfectly balanced and elegant in her movements. I could not believe that such a retch of a thing could move so beautifully, for the basket of berries she had perfectly balanced on her head had not wavered or fallen! While I caught my breath, I realized that I was so out of breath from sitting on my ass in the middle of a forest for over a year, _I need to go work out or something, _I thought with a slight smile, as Jessica took the basket off of her head, and smoothed a few wrinkles out of her dress. After she had seen that I was ready, she led me down another twisting hallway, and abruptly stopped behind a large door, "Stop acting so awkward," she snapped, as I rolled my eyes at her patronizing attitude; she ignored this, and returned her gaze to the door, "Mother?" she called, "Father?"

"Yes, baby?" came a voice; sweet, and grotesquely apt.

"We have a visitor."

"Bring her in."

My new acquaintance tossed a curl of mousy hair behind her shoulders, and pushed the door open with ease; I followed at her wake.

What lay on the other side appeared to be somewhat of a mix between a library and a study. The woman; whose voice had called from behind the door sat in a chair, embroidering something, while the man whom I figured to be her husband sat in a chair beside her, smoking a pipe.

The place was large; with ample room for anything. Shelves filled most of the room; filled with books, but there was also space for the three chairs, in which three were now occupied, as Jessica had taken a seat. I stood.

The woman smiled at me, and I tried my best to follow suit, although I was still shaking with nervousness.

"Well," the girl asked, picking up a dusty book that I suspected she had never opened before, "She's _perfect," _the woman gushed, and I saw that my acquaintance had gotten her mousy hair from her. The woman also had a potbelly, a double chin, blue eyes, and so manyfreckles that made her look like a pepperoni pizza; I cringed at the sight, and tried to appear unprotubed.

"Why, she'll do swell," the man agreed, and I saw that my acquaintance had gotten her petite figure from the man. He also had a frozen fake smile, a few sun freckles, and deep, dull gray eyes.

My smile faltered, "I'll do swell for what, exactly?" I asked, determined to get to the bottom of what the girl-- Jessica had hinted at earlier.

"Well," the girl whispered excitedly, "Our maid disappeared in the woods last week," she said this disconcertedly, "and we've been in need on another servant since then, so--"

Here, her father interrupted her, "So, you'll do our work for us! You'll cook, clean, sew, sweep, dust, garden, and do all the other little household chores."

His wife, whom I had just realized had the uncanny appearance of a pig, nodded her fat head, "And we'll allow you to live here with us-- free of charge, of course."

"But I've never worked a day of hard labor in my life, and besides, I'm only sixteen," I insisted, unsure if I actually was sixteen, "Surely, there's another--"

"So? You're just the right build-- the spitten image of-- of-- whatever her name was, and if you don't agree to our terms, we can throw you out to deal with the beasts of the wood."

"Am I to be paid for this?" I asked, anxiously; formulating a plan to raise enough money to somehow get back home-- if there was a way.

"_Of course not!" _the woman interjected; seemingly appalled at the very idea, "We're letting you stay here, remember? Do you honestly expect anything else?"

The others laughed at this, and I stared at her; surprised by her answer; I now spoke slowly and carefully-- going back home would have to wait for now; my heart fell, "Well, when do I start?"

"_Now," _my acquaintance said, shoving the basket of berries into my arms, and nearly causing me to fall to the floor, "You can begin by making the jam."


	19. Miserable

_Chapter 18: Miserable_

After I had fulfilled the thoroughly difficult task of making the jam, and then jarring it up, I was shown to my new living quarters. I was led up a narrow, winding path of stairs, and already out of breath, the girl pushed me inside, and my mouth fell open in utter shock, "Our old maid used to live here," the girl explained, not daring to take a step inside; I couldn't blame her-- _I _didn't like the idea of entering the room either; it was filthy, "You can begin your usual routine tomorrow morning. Good night."

And without another word exchanged between the two of us, she slammed the door shut, leaving me to my new bedroom; I sneezed. The floors were ancient and filthy, while the single window was both cracked and equally filthy. I wandered further into the room, frightened that the floor would collapse under me; I had a view of the forest, and a water-well just below. The floor lurched to quite a disturbing extent, and I decided it best to sit, "This isn't right," I thought out loud, as the temperature of the stone around my neck quickly surged, and I was gently burned, "This isn't right," I repeated.

I slept upon the floors that night.

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The following afternoon, I scrubbed the floors after having experienced a grueling day of working in the garden; my body was aching, and soon my fingers and hands had grown wrinkled from the soapy water. I felt both depressed and saddened; I frowned, and pulled the dripping scrubber out of the heavy bucket. I gently set it down, and stared down at the _filthy _floors of the attic-- the room to be my new "living quarters." _I want to go home, _I realized, _I want to go home; _I sighed, bitterly, just as my eyes filled up with tears. They fell out of my eyes, and onto the floor-- I had not been 'home' in so long-- the word had almost lost all meaning, but I knew that Home had been a wonderful place-- full of beauty. Beauty. And most of all, hope.

Hope for a better life.

There no longer was hope.

I was miserable.

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The man, whom I had not bothered to learn the name of soon told me that I would be allowed some straw, and at first I did not realize what he meant by this queer statement, and when I at last realized what he meant, I was frankly sickened by the idea.

And so, I carried the armful of straw upstairs to the attic, whose scrubbed floors and window barely seemed to make a difference in its overall griminess.

I made a small bed for myself in the attic by spreading the straw over the floor, until it had formed a suitable mattress for someone of my size. I lay down, and bit back tears; I later learned that the straw was infested with fleas.

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I was awoken at around five thirty in the morning. _Every single _morning, by hearing the dreadful screams of "Servant-Girl! Make our breakfast!" For the members of the household had not even bothered to learn my name-- not that I cared, of course. I despised them. Each and every one of them.

And, without a moment's thought, I would jump out of my flea-ridden bed, and onto the cold floor. I would then dress in my clothes that were quickly becoming rags.

Usually, each and every morning, it was the same exact routine; I would slowly tiptoe down the stairs, as to not awaken the "sleeping beauties--" (as they would usually fall asleep after having woken me), and I would venture outside, into the cold, where I would draw a large bucket of water from the stone well. Blinking sleep from my eyes, and trying not to have my hands come into contact with the freezing cold water, as I wanted to avoid frostbite, I would wander into the kitchen, and place the bucket of water over the stove to boil for the morning tea. Then, I would prepare breakfast, and they would reawaken, and saunter out of their bedrooms; smelling their hot meals, and promptly begin to eat; I was never allowed breakfast or lunch, as they had reminded me countless times that I only cooked well enough to receive a free dinner-- although they ate with much relish.

When that _ungrateful slob_ of a pig woman had first informed me of this, I had felt like shouting for her to go make here meals for herself then, but whenever I had these thoughts, I would remind myself that I was better off here, than in the oasis in the woods, slowly waiting for Jacqueline's return-- and the dreams had slowed as well. I rarely had them now.

I watched them eat from within the kitchen, and after the last had finished-- usually the woman, for she usually had seconds and thirds, I would rush back into the dining-room to clean up the mess they had made, feeling worse than I had the previous day.

And so, during this morning routine, with an empty stomach, and a weak feeling all over, I cried.

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I hated absolutely everything about my new life; Jessica, the mansion, her parents... Though I had been shown only the main rooms upon my immediate arrival, I soon found that the remaining hundreds of rooms were completely _filthy; _each caked with about a lair of dust, dirt, and grime. During the afternoons, I usually tried my best to make the rooms look "half-decent," but it was no easy task, and I barely had an hour before I was forced to go out into the garden.

The garden soon became my favorite place out of everything; I could be out in the sunshine; away from everyone, and though the work was just as backbreaking as everything else, while in the garden, I usually did not cry.

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In the evenings, after having prepared, and eaten supper, I lay down in my bed; itchy from all the flea-bites, while Jessica and her parents slept on feathered mattresses.

If awake at these hours, I usually cried.

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"That _is _beautiful," a nasal voice was whispering; dragging me away from my thoughts-- I opened my eyes, and stared; Jessica was watching me with her greedy eyes; I followed her gaze to find the stone that hung around my neck, "Give it to me," she demanded; holding out her heavily freckled hand.

"No," I whispered, clutching the stone until it burned, "it's mine. You can't have it."

"Give it to me, or I'll tell them," she whispered; and then sensing my weakness, "It's either that, or you can keep it, and go back into the woods."

And without another word said, I handed it over, and began to cry, after she had fastened it around her neck, and-- still gloating, left the room.

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"What are you doing in here?" a voice demanded, and I replied without turning around, "Just dusting, ma'am," I whispered, hoping that she wouldn't blow up at the sight of me in her bedroom.

"What are you doing to my things?" she asked, as if expecting me to have stolen all of the jewelry she kept in her box.

"Dusting," I repeated, frightened.

She swooped down over me, and her fat fingers clutched the jewelry box; she tore off the lid, and peeked inside, "Where is it?" she asked, angrily, after a few moments of shoving through the hundreds of jewels she possessed, "Where's what?" I asked, dreading her answer.

"Don't act innocent, you little bitch," she hissed, "My broach. My emerald broach. You took it, didn't you?"

"No," I answered, frightened, tears welling up in my eyes, "I didn't. Please. I wouldn't take anything."

"You little liar," she hissed, heaving the box to the floor, "You're a filthy little whore, and I know you've taken it. And until it is returned to its place, you won't have a scrap to eat off of our table-- Not a _scrap," _and, not yet satisfied with the tears streaming down my cheeks, she brought her open hand down upon my face, leaving a bruise.

The broach turned up under her bed the following week. And she still claimed I had had something to do with it.

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"I really do appreciate what you've been doing around here for us," a low voice whispered, and I lost focus on my chores, and abruptly turned around; in my fright, I caused the bucket of soapy water to be knocked over; the grimy floors of one of the lesser-used rooms was now covered in a lair of water about an inch thick; it would be a bitch to clean. I found that the intruder was the man; his wife and daughter had gone into town-- I had been under the impression that he had gone with them. I had been wrong.

"W-what are you doing here?" I asked, shakily; I was frightened for some reason; something about the atmosphere of the room just wasn't right...

"Just watching you... I watch you often," he was coming closer now; his footsteps echoed loudly in my ears; I shuddered, knowing what was going to happen.

"Please don't," I begged, as he sat on the floor beside me; avoiding the damp that had spread to half the room, "Just... Let me help you," I could feel his warm breath on the back of my neck; I shuddered, and tried to ignore him as he slowly undressed me with his eyes by picking up the scrubber, and attempting to refocus on my work.

"Don't," I whispered, sensing his face leaning in towards me, but he would not be stopped; he pulled my face in towards him-- pulling me into an unwanted kiss. I wanted to scream, but he had silenced me; his mustache tickled my chin; I felt vomit in the back of my throat; he was a pedophile. A sickening little pedophile-- I was sharing my first kiss with a man nearly three times my age.

At long last, he pulled away from me; my vision was blurred with tears, but I was glad to see that he had gotten up from the floor, and had left the room.

And I knew that no one would ever believe me.

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Life worsened for me.

The list of chores grew; Jessica would flounce around the house, wearing my stone, and snickering whenever I would look at it, longingly; the pig-woman pretty much left me alone, but would continually complain that I was a sneak, a liar, and a thief; she continually begged her husband to fire me, but he would have none of it-- only I knew why.

I hated them all for different reasons-- but the man frightened me the most... Everyday-- or whenever I would be alone in the house with the man, I could feel him watching me; his cold gray eyes like stone penetrating me. I ignored his future advances, by simply getting up, and leaving the room-- but sometimes, he would follow me-- even into the garden. I hated him, and I feared him; he was relentless, but I would not be hurt by him again, although his initial action would pain me, and would continue to pain me until this day.

I fell deeper into depression, and so, for a third time in my sixteen years of life-- if that's how old I actually was, I felt myself going mad. For though I was in the company of people, I still felt alone and lost. I tried to avoid them-- but they always seemed to pop up in the most unexpected ways. As the routine went on and on, unchanged for weeks, I felt my mind slowly disappearing, and the madness creeping out from behind the shadows. I began to think only horrid thoughts of murder and suicide each and every time I scrubbed the floors; each time I cleaned the chimney, and each time I drew water from the well... The oasis was beginning to sound better than this.

One thing was for sure, and it was this: I hated my new life, and I wanted out.


	20. Suicidal, Again

_Chapter 19: Suicidal, Again_

_He stares at me; grinning madly, from ear to ear, "You think you're so quick!" I scream, jokingly, as he bolts away from me, "But I'll catch you in the end."_

_I laugh, gaily, and chase my new husband through the dark forest; the ground is brown and crackling with the fallen dead leaves of the oak trees. It is fall, and we have been married for nearly two months, "You cannot catch me!" he screams, and I begin to laugh again; trying to catch him-- but just as the laughter has subsided, the sun is gone from the sky-- as if the hand of a giant has simply plucked it out. I scream; enveloped in the new darkness of the evening; the cold black of night choking me. My husband disappears, and I begin to sprint; _Why did I come here? _I wonder; screaming his name, though I know he cannot hear me; _Why did I come here...?

_I hate it here now. Everything that I had loved about the place before the disappearance of my husband, I now hate. Everything is frightening now-- _everything... _I no longer remember the reason I came. There is no one to help me. No one at all._

"_Run, run, as fast as you can... But you cannot escape me, for I am the death man," the voice comes suddenly from out of nowhere, and seemed to come from the skies; its speaker was invisible to me, and although I asked, I knew deep down who it was._

"_Who are you?" I roar, as my bare feet begin to blister and bleed; I cry out in pain, knowing that more pain will come if I do not get out of the forest-- _fast, _but I do not know the way out. I don't remember how I came to be there; my memory is a total blur._

"_Who am I...?" the voice asks, cackling, "I am everything... I am your death!"_

_And then, my running ceases, and I fall through a gaping hole, and into the earth; a snake waits at the bottom for me... I scream as it untangles itself upon seeing me, and begins to wrap its slimy body around me; choking me-- I am defenseless against its powers. As I breathe my last breath, I can distinctly see Jacqueline; standing just above the hole, laughing at me... Laughing at my pain, and throwing dirt upon me to bury my body-- corpse._

_---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

I awoke from the dream; screaming for help, and then realizing that the dream wasn't a reality, the sound of my echoing voice bouncing off of the attic walls is cut off, and I shut up; not wanting to awaken the members of the household-- especially the man, for I could almost imagine his reaction at seeing me half-naked-- the way the eyes would widen... I shuddered, and lay back down, and soon fell asleep; dreaming my normal dreams of slitting my wrists-- or slitting Jacqueline's-- or the horrid family's to whom I owe my sickening "debt--" for there is no escape from them.

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The following morning, my hands trembling with excitement, I slowly opened my pack; remembering what was inside. The knife is just as I remember it; glittering and sharp... I hope to penetrate my hear with it. I touch its sharp blade, and I smile; knowing that my troubles will soon end forever.

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Later that afternoon, while cleaning out the fireplace for what seemed the millionth time, I found a small rag-doll hidden behind a few loose stones; the rag-doll's face is caked with soot, and is cracked; the little thing is broken, and her once blue dress is now fated, filthy, and torn... _She looks like me, _I realized; slipping the rag-doll into my dress-pocket to ensure that it is would not be confiscated.

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Days came with no improvement; one day-- although her parents wouldn't have believed me had I bothered to tell them, Jessica snuck out of the house late at night, and didn't return until early the next morning.

While I was making breakfast, she sauntered into the kitchen, with a smug look on her face as she saw me, "Where the hell were you?" I asked.

"None of your business, peasant," she spat, while I rolled my eyes.

"Isn't it beautiful?" she asked, suddenly flashing a huge gold ring in front of my eyes that looked like it was suited for a man, "I guess," I whispered, "Where'd you get it…?"

She shrugged her shoulders, "I think I found it."

_Liar, _I thought, _You probably stole it from a jeweler's…_

After having slipped it back into her pocket, she left the room, and disappeared upstairs.

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A day soon came when the _wretched _family that had practically enslaved me for so long decide to go into town. I am left a sprawling list of chores to keep myself busy while they are away; I laughed, when reading the list, and then rolled it up into a ball, and tossed it behind my shoulder, and into the fireplace. There would be no need to do chores now. Not ever again, actually.

I watched them from the attic-window as their carriage slowly pulled away from the mansion, and then I jumped out of my straw-bed; quickly finding the rag-doll and the knife (along with all of my other worldly possessions) hidden under a loose floorboard-- just where I had left them all night.

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I told the rag-doll my life story as I carefully stroked the silver knife that would end my life at last. I told the rag-doll my story, and although I knew that it was deprived of both ears and a tongue, I felt that it could somehow hear me. I told it _everything; _how my mother and father were murdered, how my stepmother tried to kill me… attempted… discovered… "But I won't allow her the satisfaction of seeing my dead body," I finished dramatically; my voice hardly louder than a whisper, "That's what the knife is for," I smiled to myself, _I only hope it won't be too very painful... _and then a second thought, _But what could be more painful than this life?_

And I raised the large knife; ready to plunge it into my heart; I said a quick prayer for God to save my soul-- if there was a God; after all, I would soon know it--or I would know nothing at all, and just then, a strong wind crashed through the window; shattering the glass. I dropped the knife to the floor, and screamed at the sight of who had entered my bedroom-- for I know that it is no plausible. _Or _possible.


	21. Ghostly Visitor

_Chapter 20: Ghostly Visitor _

I jumped up; ready to fight-- or at least try to fight, as the strange, yet familiar figure entered my bedroom through the gaping hole in the wall that had been-- until thirty seconds ago, my bedroom window, _"You!" _I screamed, aghast, and backing away from her, as seeing her after so long caused the room to spin, "You?" I felt dizzy, "How can it be you?" I asked, nearly blacking out from all the strangeness, "Y-you're dead!" I finally finished, as she came back into focus, and my mind cleared a little.

My fairy godmother slowly nodded, as she floated towards me; her feet eerily inches above the floor; as she passed them, the shards of glass that now littered the filthy floors jumped up, and took their places inside of the window frame; the window had been reformed.

_"How in the fuck are you here!" _I asked; scared out of my wits at the sight of the ghostly presence-- it couldn't be. It simply couldn't be, "You're dead! _She _killed you! That _whore of a stepmother of mine_ killed you! **_SHE FUCKING KILLED YOU!" _**

My fairy godmother nodded once again; calmly and solemnly-- I was at a loss for words; how could she be acting like she'd just stepped in for a spot of tea? "That she did, my dear child... that she did, my dear Beatrice, but she cannot keep me from protecting you-- No one could," she paused, to give me a warm smile.

"But, how do I know it's really you, Elaine?" I asked, frightened, "How do I know that you're not some trick?"

"You must believe me, Beatrice. You must."

My uncertainties and fears instantly vanished; my shoulders shrugged gratefully, "Thank you," I whispered, "Nobody's said my name in _ages," _I smiled for the first time in centuries-- a real smile, as she hovered closer towards me, and held out her hand.

I attempted to take it, but my hand passed through the silvery hand-- it was like vapor; Elaine went on, ignoring this, "When Jacqueline murdered me, my spirit left my body at last, and was free to do as it pleased; it was free to wander the world... I've been watching over _all_ of my godchildren, but _especially_ you; I've been keeping a _very_ close eye on you. I've made sure that you continued to remain safe."

I sat down upon the hard floor, and restrained the urge to begin contradicting her, and laughing at her _stupid _words; _'kept a close eye on me...' _After having decided that it would be a better idea if I didn't bring it up, I spoke again, after a long silence, "My God!" I exclaimed, "It seems like _years _since..." I drifted off, at a loss for words again.

"This is no time for reminiscing!" she exclaimed, as I stood up from the floor, and onto my feet. I wiped a tear away from my eyes, and saw that she was crying as well. Millions of questions were being considered in my mind-- I wasn't sure which to ask first; _What's it like to die? Why have you come here? Am I safe? Is there a way back home? _"Calm down!" she snapped, briskly; as if reading my mind, "I may only be seen in this form but for a mere hour. There is much to tell! Many secrets still to be learned!"

I lost myself in memories, _"More _secrets?" I asked, and for the first time in _so _long, I am able to loosen up; I am able to _laugh. _A hearty, strong laugh; one that had not escaped from my throat since the days of so long ago when my parents had still been alive and well.

She continued with her story, as if I had not interrupted, "And after I died, you had the good sense to return to the safe haven, did you not?"

_" 'Safe haven?' "_ I repeated, and then my anger boiled over, "What are you talking about? _'Safe haven?' _I returned to that Godforsaken oasis, and sat under that God-dammed oak, and wasted my life for a **_FUCKING YEAR,_** while you were up in some cloud 'watching over me.' If you cared so much, why didn't you save me? Why didn't you get me out of there-- out of _here?_ I've been humiliated, and made miserable countless times, and yet you show up as if a day's gone by! What's your fucking problem, Elaine?"

Clearly taken aback by my harsh words, she remained silent for a moment; eventually, she shrugged it all off, and began answering my questions, "I could not appear before you were in mortal danger, my child. The magic is difficult to perform, and it can only be performed once in a while. Not very often. It leaves me very weak after it has worn off. All of these other things you speak of-- humility, hard work, and despair-- these are normal parts of life, my Beatrice-- of being _human, _and if you do not learn to accept them now, you will not be able to survive the long battle that lies ahead."

_" 'Battle?' " _I repeated, now almost annoyed by her presence, as opposed to being relieved, "There is no battle, Elaine. I'm sixteen years old, and I just want to go home."

"You've much to learn before that time comes, Beatrice," I opened my mouth to complain, "Now shut up, and try to learn something. Earlier, I mentioned the safe-haven; there, you were safe from danger, for oak trees contain an ancient magic which is precious and vital to existence here... there is magic in the very heart of the oak that will repel the shaskas. To them it is something _horrible, _for it remains pure, and cannot be corrupted."

My angry feelings and resentment towards her now gone, I was truly intrigued, "But why hasn't _she _killed me? I'm not under the oak. Here I am!"

She smiled at my cleverness, "The people of D'Nalge remain in fear of the shaska, for this is where they originated... Thus, all houses here are made of oak...

_When the snake that tempted Eve  
__Fled Eden  
__It came to our noble world,  
__And polluted it,  
__By becoming mortal,  
__And finding a lover;  
__The first shaska was born out of their evils." _

_"Snake?" _I repeated, "Snakes-- ever since you died, the snake has haunted my dreams! It _and _Jacqueline," I paused, processing everything, "Now it's all beginning to make sense."

"Yes... and remember the night when your father ran over the black cat...?"

"You mean Jacqueline in disguise?" I whispered, excitedly; hardly believing the long-awaited truths.

"Yes; I was watching you that night."

_"I knew it!" _I exclaimed, jumping off of the dusty floor in excitement, "I got goose bumps! I knew that someone or _something _was watching us then! It was my-- my-- sixth sense if you can call it that; I could practically _hear _eyes watching us; I just didn't say anything about it. I figured that something in the darkness was watching us… but where is Jacqueline now?"

"I have a feeling that she remains in this world… she yearns to meet with you-- to _kill_ you."

Suddenly my mood changed at her stating the obvious, the anger that was _still _bottled up in me exploded once again, **_"YES-- I KNOW! BUT WHERE?" _**I roared, **_"WHERE IN THE FUCK IS SHE!" _**

This time, my fairy godmother remained unaffected by my vulgar language; "The forest-- the forest… I can sense her there… she is waiting… _watching._ You must stay away from--"

She suddenly stopped speaking, "Wait!" I screamed, but she began fading away, and could no longer speak-- or even listen to me; "No!" I screamed. "Please!" she was becoming fainter still-- she was little more than a silvery outline now, "Please don't leave me here in this hellhole to rot! Take me with you! Please!" And then, she was completely disappeared; leaving me to my long list of chores.


	22. Fright Night

_Chapter 21: Fright Night _

When they at last came back home that evening, and found the house to their satisfaction, I ended up forgetting about dinner, as they had already "supped" with some foreign minister, and I would not be expected to cook that evening. It didn't matter. I wasn't even hungry. Everything that had happened that day had made me lose my appetite.

So, after having at last heard Jessica finishing the story about how "absolutely adorable" the minister had been, I climbed upstairs to the attic, and soon feel asleep, surprised that I was so tired; a peaceful sleep which was now so unfamiliar to me... My sixth sense told me that I was being watched, but I ignored it. I was sleeping... _sleeping; _sleeping in such a way that I hadn't in nearly five years…

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I awoke in the middle of the night, somewhere around three o'clock in the morning for no apparent reason, whatsoever, and felt that same, strange unmistakable sensation of being _watched. _I felt a great urge to look out of the newly repaired window, and to see what was going on outside of my prison; without knowing why, I did so.

Peering out of the window, and into the darkness below; my eyes somehow adjusted, and everything lit up in some strange new light; it was as if tit were day... I could see so well because of the golden moon, and its bathing over everything around for miles and miles in every direction.

I looked around my surroundings feeling a strange wave of euphoria; they were absolutely _beautiful... _as if something out of a strange and fantastic dream!

The trees of the forest yonder were lit up with the same, strange light of the moon... they were so happy and bright, and they were laughing... _Laughing...? _I wondered, wiping some of the dust and grime away from the window to get a better view... _No, that couldn't be right, _but I was taken aback, as the laughing continued, and then subsided... I was hoping that I was mistaken; _hearing _things, but then again, that laugh was just as unmistakable as the strange sensation of being watched...

But I wasn't mistaken. I _couldn't _be, and I realized that, when a dark figure emerged from behind one of the willow trees that stood in front of the mansion... My heart sped, and I knew who it was... _Jacqueline!_

I was frightened. This couldn't be happening to me. This couldn't be happening to me, but it was. She was there. She was there, and she knew that I had seen her, for she looked up at me; her grizzly eyes alit with a shine that I had never seen _human _eyes light up with before... _She'll kill me, _I quickly realized, as our eyes met each other, and her ruby lips curved into a smile, and her black dress fluttered in the wind, _I'm done for! _I realized, grimly.

I closed my eyes for a moment, and then opened them, seeing that she was right there at my window... The sight of her reminded me of a moment from one of my favorite novels, 'Salem's Lot, by Stephen King; though I had not read it in year, the nightmarish moment was practically straight out of it; _She's the vampire, Beatrice… _I thought, panicked; I couldn't think straight anymore. The room was spinning, _She's the vampire, and you're the victim! You're the victim, and there's no bloody way out! _Her long black nails clicked as they come into contact with the glass of the window, and then, they scraped against it; forming streaks in my dusty old window, and then, her eyes flashed wickedly, "You'll be dead soon," she mouthed, and then she was gone…

_I'm safe! _I thought, thanking God for his good grace, and then I passed out.


	23. News

_Chapter 22: News _

The following morning, I was unsure as to whether on not the previous evening's happenings had been dream or reality.

I sat up from the floor; my head was throbbing, and only after the first few waking moments of groggy thoughts had subsided, did I rub my head in the spot where I had fallen, and hit it-- when I had fainted; so last night sure had not been a dream, and if the lump wasn't proof enough...

I looked out of the dusty window; half expecting to see Jacqueline's disgusting face leering, and staring right back at me; sunlight was streaming in through the long streaks that she had left the night before, but the sun did not burn my skin for it had become darker since I had begun my hard labor. _She's back, _I realized, _She's back, and she won't stop coming until I'm dead, _I put my face against the still cool glass of the window, and cried...

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"_You deserve to die," she whispers; her voice a mere hiss..._

"_NO!" I repeat, for what seems the millionth time, as I begin backing away from my once loving mother, but it is useless, for she is forever persistent, and follows me deeper and deeper into the wood, "Please," I beg; frightened, trying to find a way out, "Please. I am your daugh--"_

"_I don't have a daughter anymore," she hisses, "You condemned me to a fate worse than death."_

"_NO!" I repeat once again, and then I realize that we are now joined by a third; my father suddenly appears from behind one of the willow trees._

_He stares at me; his yellow eyes ablaze with hatred, misery, and loathing; he is a corpse, and I want him-- both of them _gone… He is not the father that I once knew and loved! _I scream. _

_They look almost normal, and yet... yet they are changed somehow; as if corrupted. Yes. That's it. They have been corrupted by Jacqueline, the shaska, and all of her evils. One thing is true: _I am frightened.

"_What is this?" I scream, "What have I done to you?"_

"_You allowed me to marry Jacqueline," my father explains; his voice a frightening snakelike hiss._

"_NO!" I scream; my voice hoarse from all of the screaming, "You're wrong. Wrong! I _hated _Jacqueline, but I never-- _never _could have dreamed what she _truly _was! I loved you. Don't believe what she told--"_

"_Yes, you did," my mother chimes in from behind him, "You wanted James dead, so you watched from the aisle in that pretty pink dress as he married his downfall. Her and her kind killed us--"_

"_--And now it is our duty to kill you," my father finishes, and he and my mother clasp hands, and in a flash of bright light, they become Jacqueline; she laughs at my fright. Her gauzy black robe flutters in the wind, and she smiles with amusement. I can read her eyes, and they say **KILL. **_

_I am her prey… _

_I did my best to analyze the situation that I now found myself trapped in-- and it was _bad. _I began running away from the beast, and intently began to observe my surroundings; it was around Midnight, and I was trapped... trapped in the forest. I had been trapped in the woods one way or the other. Whether it was scrubbing floors, or finding my fairy godmother dead, or wasting days in some sickening oasis, or trapped at home with my brain-dead father, and slutty stepmother... _I had been lost in the woods for almost seven years._ But only now, I knew that the end was near._

_At that second, a laugh sends shivers up my spine, and I quicken my pace... I tear out of the woods, but there is _zero way whatsoever _of my getting out... the forest-- all of D'Nalge-- _all of the worlds _are Jacqueline-- _the monster, _and they wish to kill me!_ I am trapped with the _sickening _creature, and I must _face _it, _I think wildly; spinning around… and _there she is…

_There is no need to hide, for there is no hope to live. I am ready-- ready to die; she is right behind me, and her cold hands wrap themselves around my neck; her black fingernails digging deeper and deeper into my flesh... She draws blood, and I cannot scream out for she has cut off my air; I am being strangled... it gets harder and harder to breathe, as she tightens her grip… and then, I hear the painful snap of the bones in my neck breaking; _She broke my neck! _I think, panicked, as I fall to the floor, and gasp for air... I'm dying. Quickly. And it's painful. _So_ painful... _

_Jacqueline transforms, becoming the snake-- the same snake that has haunted my dreams for all eternity. I expire, and the snake devours me… _

_---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

I awaken abruptly at the very end of the dream in a cold sweat. My mind is racing. I look out of the window... and there she is; _watching _me, just as I sensed she had been. "Leave," I hiss under my breath, "Leave..."

A shiver is sent up my spine, and I turn away; determined to forget her eerie presence at my window, for I know that she will remain there until the sunrise.

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The following morning, I am instructed to begin the spring cleaning. I was scrubbing the floors of Jessica's bedroom when I heard the noisy wheels of a carriage approaching; I got off of my hands and knees, and rushed over towards her window. I peered out, and into the courtyard.

It _is _a carriage… and Royal by the look of things; a coat of arms adorns each and every side. A young man-- a steward steps out from the passenger side, holding a manilla envelope sealed with red wax; I suddenly have a vision of being escorted by him, and taken away to a better life; I pound on the glass to get his attention, but he either does not hear me, or doesn't bother to help me... He approaches the house, and there are three loud knocks. Someone answers it, and then he is gone as quickly as he had come. My hopes of rescue now dashed, I return to my hands and knees, and resume my tedious scrubbing.

_Stupid fool, _I thought, scrubbing fiercely, _How could the idiot not have heard me? I mean, really!_

I threw the scrubber down in anger, _Now I'll probably be stuck here for ages, and all because that asshole was too stupid to look into the window!_

"**_BEATRICE!" _**the voice of the woman called, suddenly dragging me out of my angry thoughts. Knowing that I would be in for it if I did not obey her, I threw down the scrubber once again, ran downstairs, and found the woman sitting at the dining-room table with her daughter (her husband was thankfully at work.) She smiled at the sight of me, as I trudged down into the room, and held up the envelope, "Read it," she demanded, throwing it across the table in my direction.

I grabbed it off of the table, and read:

_By royal decree, in honor of his Highness's _

_twentieth year, a ball is to be held. All women _

_of sixteen years and older are to come… _

The daughter yanked it out of my hands, before I had had the chance to finish reading it through, "Isn't it great?" she asked; her voice simpering and demanding.

"I suppose," I quickly lied _God, I _need _to go! _I thought to myself, _It's the _perfect _opportunity for me to leave my prison…! _I did not want them to know how much I wanted to go-- after all, it was a way to escape, and start a new life...

" '_You suppose?' " _she repeated, clearly flabbergasted by my response; she turned to her mother, "I cannot wait!" she screamed, "The scullery made can do my hair, and-- and--" both her voice and smile faltered, "_but what about his gift?" _

The woman's face, as if expecting a question like this suddenly lit up with a radiant smile, "The jam. The jam that that scullery girl made the day she came here!"

_Jam…? _I thought, _When did I make… _And then it dawned on me as well, _Oh, _that _jam! The one made from the sickening berries of the oasis! _"I left it in the cellar as I was told," I said, matter-of-factly.

"Well don't stand there like a lazy bump on a log! Go get it!"

I nodded; picked up the hems of my rags, and ran away from the room, open a door, and hurried down the stairs, and into the cellar.

The cellar was dark, while the flight of stairs is quite long... On the way down, I realized, with a grimace, that the jam would most likely taste like shit... It _would not _be something suitable for a prince...

When I had been told to make it, there had been no recipe to follow... What had I done, anyways...? Let's see. I had boiled the berries, and had flavored them with nearly all of the sweet spices in the house; poured the putrid mixture into a jar, and had put the lid on; tightening it to cover up the stench... _But did that make jam? _

Probably not, but I shrugged my shoulders, unconcernedly; reached the bottom step of the stairs, took the jar of jam off from the shelf, praying that it would miraculously taste good, and ran back upstairs...

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"**_WHAT IS THIS GARBAGE?" _**the woman screamed, as she heaved the putrid jar of jam across the room; it fell, and the glass that had made up the jar shattered into a million pieces, and the purple jam spread across the floor.

"I'm sorry," I murmured.

" '_Sorry' _doesn't cut it, peasant!" the girl screamed, as she stood up from the table, and suddenly pushed me onto the floor-- I had no time to struggle, "We've clothed you, let you eat our bread, and how do you repay us? You mess up the jam! Our _royal _jam, made with _royal _berries, and you expect us to forgive you?" she scoffed.

"No," I repeated, trying to get up off of the wooden floor, but she had pinned me down with all of her body-weight (surprisingly a lot in such a concentration.) She spat in my face; the woman stood up from the table, as if nothing had happened, and left the room, headed for the study. The girl slugged me in the face, making it black and blue.

"Stop it!" I screamed, "Get off of me, you--"

"You little whore," she hissed, as I struggled for breath underneath her somewhat immense body weight-- although she was _such _a scrawny little thing, "The prince would have married _me... he would have married me!" _She burst into tears, and seizing my chance, I pushed her off of me; then as an added bonus, as she was sitting on the floor; her face buried into her palms, I kicked her right in the head; she fell over in a slump; I realized that I had knocked her unconscious.

And there would be hell to pay.

But that didn't matter just yet, so smiling triumphantly at my long-awaited revenge, I ran upstairs, and slipped all of my belongings into my pocket; I still had the knife, _And I'll need it, _I thought, wildly; my actions a blur, _When I find her, I'll use it to slit Jacqueline's throat… _

I was no downstairs, and the woman suddenly approached me; _She must have heard the commotion, _I thought, **_"OUT!"_** she screamed, **_"YOU ARE NOT WELCOME IN OUR HOME ANYMORE. OUT. _OUT!"**

"I _am_ leaving, you fucking bitch," I hissed, as I pulled out the knife, "I don't need your _fucking _hospitality anymore," I shoved her backwards, and ran out of the house. I paused at the doorway, "And don't bother sending your perverted husband to look for me... He'll _never _find me."

The sun was setting, and my smile widened when the bitch screamed when she discovers her daughter's unconscious body lying on the floor...

I felt much more alive and sane than I had in nearly a decade... the shining bruise on my face was a reminder, and the bruise on that _bitch, _Jessica's face... well, that was an added bonus.

I walked out and away from the house, and into the golden sunset...


	24. Into the Woods

_Chapter 23: Into the Woods _

The fiery sun was beginning to set, and the forest was being cast in a strange orange hue... I smiled to myself as I walked on. It was over. Over. I was out of the mansion, and I was on my own at long last... Although I was still frightened, but the surge of adrenaline I had felt-- and was still experiencing was keeping me going.

Soon, however, the inevitable came, as I had known deep down that it would; the forest was thrown into darkness-- just like in all of my nightmares-- as night fell, and I began to wonder whether or not I would still be safe here... _But safe from what...?_

_From Jacqueline..._ I slowed my brisk pace to a steady walk when I had realized this; I had wandered into the dark woods forgetting that this was her home-- her playground. I would _not _be safe here now that night had fallen; I was nothing but fresh meat.

How could I have been so happy to have entered to forest only a couple of hours before...? Had I been bewitched...? Mystified...? I was not safe here. No one could be safe in a _nightmare. _But this was no nightmare. That was for sure. There would be no waking from this dream. This dream would end with my death at the hands of Jacqueline-- only it would be a _real_ death, and there would be _real _pain.

But then, hope again, as I realized what lay inside the forest; _away _from Jacqueline... the oasis... _the oasis... _underneath my oak; the _only _place where I was _sure _to be safe! A stupefied smile formed across my face, as I continued down the path.

But it was dark... _much_ too dark for walking, actually. It was _pitch black. _It would be a frigid day in hell before I could _ever _find the way to the safe haven in the dark of night; _"Beatrice..." _a low hiss whispered... The wind in the trees; _surely _the wind passing through the dying leaves of the trees... It could _not _be her. Not yet... But the smile was wiped away from my face instantly, and I froze in my tracks; determined not to panic.

I closed my eyes, and slowly counted backwards from one to ten to regain my head; _10, 9, 8, **AM I ALONE!; **7,6,5, **WHERE IS SHE!; **4, 3, 2, **WILL I SURVIVE THE NIGHT…? **_

And then, the unmistakable sound of leaves crunching beneath somebody's feet caught my attention, "1!" I breathed the word in little more than a whisper; my eyes snapped open again, and I spun around to find whose company had been forced upon me-- I was almost hoping that I would find Jessica or the man, but I knew I had run out of luck, "Who's there?" I repeated, though all the while knowing an answer would not be spoken-- she knew that I had realized who she was. She needn't answer after all.

I was in a dream... yes. That _had _to be it! I was simply in _another _fucked-up dream. After all, wasn't _anything _possible in this fucked-up world where magic was real...?

I'd wake in a cold sweat; possibly all alone in my bedroom; in a house with my mother and father... no, that was _impossible! _That was _eight years ago! _"Who are you?" I screamed.

_...but could I have dreamt a dream eight years worth of nightmares...?_

_...the answer was no..._

The nightmare that I was living could never end unless and until Jacqueline was finally able to _kill _me.

_I shouldn't be here, _I thought, frightened, _I should have stayed... _I had been so _stupid _to have left the people with whom I had been living with. I at long last realized that now, but there was no way back. There was no going back now. I had to try to evade Jacqueline for the night-- and that wouldn't be a picnic.

_I had walked into a **LIVING, BREATHING **nightmare!_

And in doing so, I had done _exactly _what Jacqueline had wanted me to do all along.

And all those dreams-- _every single one **HADN'T **_been dreams. They had all been a sign-- a sign of what was to come! A sign of the near future in which I was to be chased through the wood by a monster-- _the _monster I'd been trying to run from for _years-- **JACQUELINE.**_

There was no escape. Not anymore. I could hear her now-- directly behind me, breathing in short ragged breaths.

"_Beatrice..." _the voice of the monster hissed in the darkness, "It is time. Time for you to face your nightmare. _Face me."_

"_Leave me alone," _I whispered.

"We've been through all this before, haven't we, my child? If you're so clever, you should know the answer; I won't leave you alone until you're dead. I've waited long enough."

"Shut up."

"Face me like your mother would have, Beatrice."

And that caused another surge of emotions; I reddened-- I could tell even in the darkness, **_"FUCK YOU! DON'T YOU _DARE _TALK ABOUT HER!" _**

She laughed, "So vulgar, my child, but you cannot run away from me forever. _Face me," _she repeated, and then, I felt her appear just an inch away from my face. Each time she took a breath, I felt it on the back of my neck; my heart was racing, "Soon, the time will come for you to die; I've tired of watching you running around here in D'Nalge. It's no fun at all! In fact, it's beginning to become_ quite _a bore. It's 'getting old.' But, the dreams do seem to have done their work; _otherwise _you would have never come here tonight-- to me; are you frightened, Beatrice...? Frightened in knowing that you now must die?"

"No," I whispered, firmly, unsure, "I'm not frightened of you."

"But you cannot get away this time, Beatrice. There's no one here to protect you... not anymore."

"I can save myself," I whispered, but she was right; I could not move... I was frozen to the spot; frozen not by fear, but by the magnitude of our meeting-- it was a spell-- and I was helpless. A tear slid down my cheek, "Why did you come into my life in the first place? Why did you find me again?"

"When you speak to me, look into my eyes, Beatrice. Face me. It may be dark, but you _must _face me. I have been growing weaker lately. Though that maidservant, Elsa, your predecessor had her merit, I'm in great need of something stronger to keep me young and beautiful-- as Elaine has probably told you," she paused, and I continued to cry silently, _"Face me."_

I opened my eyes, and slowly brought my head up, until I was sure that our eyes had met at last, "Do it now," I whispered, and then, the darkness of the wood vanished completely; and I saw my tear-covered face reflected in her once beautiful blue eyes-- now a violent shade of red that glowed under the golden moonlight just like two fiery coals, "Come on, Jacqueline. You didn't have a single problem when you killed your father," I paused, "Are you ready? I am."

Then I felt my face-- my entire body growing hot. It grew hot with my hatred for the creature who stood before me, and then, I saw that the entire forest had become a blazing fireplace; the trees set on fire-- _burning, _hot orange fire; the fire that had burned quietly in my heart and soul for the last several years, for the _bitch _who stood before me-- my anger had somehow created magic. Jacqueline laughed, "Frightened yet, Beatrice?"

"No," I whispered; despite her spell, managing to shake my head.

"Your time has come, child."

"No, bitch. _Yours _has!" And I broke free of the bond that had held me there. The fires ceased their angry burning, and twilight returned to the forest-- as if nothing had happened at all. The normality of evening seemed to have re-enveloped it. _What now...? _I wondered, half-panicked.

Jacqueline was obviously surprised-- she obviously had not been expecting this, so due to instinct, or sheer intellect, I began to run away from her. After a few seconds, she followed. In the 'hot pursuit' that followed, I nearly tripped six hundred times, and the trees began scarcer as I reached the edge of the forest, yet I still felt her following me-- her red eyes burning a hole in my back. But soon, I realized that the smell of the forest had changed. It now smelled of-- _oak! _And every tree for a couple of feet (and there were many), was an _oak tree! _I stopped running, and sat upon the leaf-covered floor, knowing that I would be safe for the night.

I was tired. So very tired-- breaking the spell had taken nearly all of my strength. I could not stay awake, waiting for Jacqueline to attempt to lure me back to her... I was so tired...

The wind moaned, and I slept… safe from _her. _

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The following morning, I awoke to hear the sounds of leaves crunching beneath the heavy weight of wheels; wheels of a carriage as it exited the forest, and went into town.

I stood up, and backed away from the path of the approaching carriage; instantly recognizing it-- I could not believe my luck; it belonged to that _no-good _family. What were they doing in the fucking wood...? And then it dawned on me, _"BEATRICE!" _the man's voice called from within the carriage... The woman had disobeyed my wishes-- as I knew she would-- they were searching for _me! _"Fuck," I breathed; _I could be spotted... _easily; I ducked behind a nearby tree, praying that they would move on, but I knew that it was useless; the carriage came to an abrupt stop just in front of me, and the man stepped out of it, "Beatrice, my dear child!" the man said, "Is that you behind the tree?" he asked, dumbly; peering around it, and spotting me, "There you are!" he exclaimed, as if we'd been playing a childish game of hide and seek.

"Yes-- here I am," I said, faking laughter... I could hide from him no longer; I stepped out from behind the oak.

He offered me a smile-- a _false _smile, I noted-- one that I knew _oh too well _from Jacqueline... the one you would think an alligator to bestow upon the little fishes he hopes to sup upon.

I realized, with some fright that he was alone-- I hoped that he would not try anything, because I still had the knife...

"Good day," I replied, giving him an equally false courtesy; one to rival his smile.

"Oh, my dear child!" he exclaimed, "I feared that I would never have the pleasure to look upon your lovely face again," I cringed away from him, but he took my hands in his, and slowly brought me out of my courtesy, "Oh, and you're so dirty! What in heaven's sake have you been doing out here?" he paused to wipe some mud off of my face, and I felt like sitting in his face at his touch. He smiled.

I sort of halfheartedly returned the smile, and he led me towards the carriage, and gestured that I let myself in; I didn't want to-- my worst nightmare was to be all alone with him, but I soon relented, when he had opened the door, and had sort of 'nicely' shoved me towards it. I stepped inside, the door was closed, and he got in beside me, and we began riding back towards his house; me being unsure as to what would happen when we would reach our destination.


	25. THE FIRST NIGHT: Deception

_Chapter 24: THE FIRST NIGHT OF THE BALL: Deception _

We arrived back at his mansion at about a quarter until noon, judging by the position of the sun in the sky; the carriage then came to a complete stop, the bastard man got out, he opened my door for me, and I stepped out of the stuffy carriage, and into the warm sunshine, "Thank you," I murmured, trying to sound appreciative, as he once again took my sooty hands in his slimy ones-- I instantly broke free of his grasp, and then he led me to the front door; which instantly opened. They had obviously been expecting us; _Boy, am I in for it, _I realized, as the woman smiled warmly at me, and I couldn't help but to wonder about what she'd look like _without _the double-chin; the man ushered me inside, and into the living-room.

The girl was already in there, lazily sitting on the couch-- obviously waiting for us, "Good morning, Miss Beatrice," she greeted me; her nasal voice obviously trying to sound sweet, and full of spring honey.

'_Miss Beatrice!' _I practically had to restrain myself from laughing; then I turned to face Pig-Woman-- who had been trying to get my attention be performing a few fake-- and very annoying coughs, "Oh, Beatrice!" she gushed (making me wondering if she'd rehearsed), "You poor thing, how could you live? Your face! It's _so dirty!" _and to my utter annoyance, she pulled out a pink handkerchief from her pocket, and began rubbing it into my face.

"You never cared about my hygiene before," I shot back, pulling away from her, and forgetting my false politeness-- it didn't matter anyways. They were obviously up to something-- otherwise I would have been beaten, "And besides, I left here this way," I finished coldly, and I knew that although she was putting on a nice act, I was now trying her; she refused to take my bait, and fly off of the handle though-- to my disappointment.

"Well, I suppose that I have decided to let bygones be bygones," the girl suddenly piped up from behind me, and I spun around to face her, _"What?" _I asked, hardly believing the words that were flowing from her ugly mouth, "Well," she started, slowly; surely surprised by my lack of forgiveness or remorse, "I've decided to forgive you for..." she trailed off, fingering the large bruise on her face from my kicking her; she had tried to conceal it by using a _heavy _amount of that pancake powder shit that they used in silent movies from the twenties-- I snickered, for it had not worked very well; I could see the black and blue spot shining clearly beneath, "For mangling your face?" I finished, attempting to try her patience.

She, like her mother, also refused to take my bait, and merely nodder he ugly head; causing her mousy brown hair to slowly bounce up and down-- so, they _had _practiced well... _But _what,_ exactly, were they aiming at...?_

I stared at Jessica, and then her mother, and then her father-- waiting for one to break the uncomfortable silence. The pedophile decided to speak, "And we have decided it best that you attend the ball with us tomorrow," I turned around to face the man in utter shock.

"Why?" I asked, unnerved.

"No questions, my dear child," he replied, anxiously; realizing that I had easily seen through his "clever" ruse.

"_Why?" _I repeated, becoming vexed-- did they honestly think that they could silence me now-- after what I'd done yesterday...? I'd give them all a shiner if I didn't get my answers...

His face turned red and angry for a moment, and then was glossed over again-- becoming just as pasty as before, "No questions," he repeated.

"We can go as one big happy family," the woman agreed, with false enthusiasm; reminding me of Veronica-- one of the annoying blonde cheerleaders I'd known in high school; I cringed at her peppiness, and backed away from her, as she tried to put a fat hand on my shoulder.

"And what if I don't want to go?" I asked, annoyed with all of them.

"You _will _go, and you _will _like it," the girl suddenly spoke up-- although I discovered that her falseness was quickly wearing off-- she obviously wanted something out of this-- but she just wasn't getting it quickly enough. The sight of her sickened me.

I turned. I wasn't going to stay in this house with them-- they were absolutely insane if they thought I would. I turned on my heels, and started towards the door, but the man suddenly lunged in front of it, and the look of his face made me turn around, and head back, "And you are not to leave the house at all. You are to go upstairs to your bedroom, and we shall call you down for supper. Understood?" his voice was demanding, and somewhat frantic-- what were they going to get out of this...?

"Fine," I whispered, deciding it best to obey-- at least for now, and without another word said, I ran upstairs to my bedroom-- the attic, I mean.

I shook my head in disgust at their totally fake change-of heart towards me, lay down, and slept for many hours.

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I didn't bother going downstairs for dinner-- I wasn't hungry, and I was almost positive that whatever they had concocted simply was not edible in any sense.

I stared up at the ceiling until around Midnight, for I knew that if I was quick, I could get out of the mansion, and get out of the forest, and into town in about fifteen minutes-- I was confident that I would not have to face Jacqueline again.

I tiptoed down the stairs, and came to the door that led to the outside, but a low voice hissed, "Don't even think about it," and I realized that the man had been waiting for me trying to escape.

In my panic, I rushed back upstairs, and slammed the door shut-- not caring if I woke the entire household.

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The following evening, I was allowed to bathe-- for the first time in months, and then forced into some itchy dark blue, borderline purple hand-me-down dress that was _way too tight _on me; I suspected that Jessica had worn it when she was ten. Given hardly any makeup, I looked like a joke, "I'm not going," I said to myself when I caught my reflection in a mirror, "This is _ridiculous," _I said to myself, for even my hair looked like a mess; I had hardly been able to comb it, as Jessica, or whatever in the fuck her name was had wanted to look 'irresistible,' and had been using the only comb in the entire place all day to brush her short mousy hair.

I felt like voicing out my opinions, but then the thought of their insisting with their sickly-sweet smiles-- I decided that it would be best to rough it out tonight. After all, a couple of hours around about two thousand people wasn't _too _embarrassing, was it?

As I made to back away from the mirror, Jessica suddenly approached me; obviously making a sad attempt to making conversation, "What's that?" she suddenly asked, pointing to my left arm, and making a sickened face.

I stared at the scar that I had had since I was about six years old, "A scar," I said; having to stop myself from adding "stupid."

"Oh. How'd it happen?"

I shrugged; the same response I had given to everyone who had asked the same stupid question all throughout my school years.

And so, as the sun set, we all piled into the carriage, and slowly drove to the King's palace; I had never been out of the woods, so when we had exited the sprawling forest, I became sort of happy-- as everything was new to me-- even though I was in the worst company imaginable; _Perhaps I can escape, while at the palace, _I thought, hopefully, as Jessica giggled beside me, and I restrained the urge to slap her, and give her a second bruise.

Oh, and I am sure that you're wondering right now what my "family" was wearing; the girl was wearing some long light-purple gown, which I'm sorry to say would have looked _much better _on me, and Pig-Woman was wearing some goofy, pouffy, foofy thing that I'd imagine a clown to wear, as it had so many ruffles and collars it made me dizzy; it was something altogether unnecessary and uncalled for. The man was wearing the usual outfit he wore everyday to work; slacks, a light-blue shirt, and a tie. Pig-Woman clutched the gift that they were to give the prince; if you haven't guessed already, I'm pretty sure-- though they had not told me, and I'm sure would deny it, they had just gathered up the 'royal jam' from off of the floor, and had simply put it into a fancier jar, to save both time and money, and as the husband was a cheapskate, he probably _would _save some dusty, ruined jam off of the floor-- even if it _would _give anyone who even smelled it food poisoning.

I rolled my eyes at the giggling git, and shifted uncomfortably in my seat; it was getting _very _stuffy in the carriage because my dress was so very tight-- and the fact that I had been put in the center of the two women, and I was being squashed to death, I felt even more stuffy...

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The great stone-castle grew closer and closer, and the girl, and Pig-Woman kept on poking their ugly heads out of the carriage to get a better look at it; gossiping about the people they hoped to meet, and giggling. They might have been Lucy and Ethel-- had one not been retarded, while the other not morbidly obese.

The carriage came to an abrupt stop, and I was helped out of it. I followed my "family" up the palace steps, and into the sparkling palace itself; forgetting the fact that I could barely breathe, and that my company was there, I realized that it was _amazing; _it was grand, with diamond chandeliers, and elegant sculptures made of marble and gold, but it wasn't too much-- it wasn't overdone or anything; it was just enough of everything. I smiled, in spit of myself; now forgetting that I looked a joke, as we entered the ballroom; it was large and spacious, with a black-marble floor, and white walls, adorned with portraits of its ancestral Kings and Queens. I gasped a second time when I first caught my firs glimpse of the scene as a whole; women in long flowing gowns, and girls my age-- some even younger, hoping for a glimpse of the prince-- but unlike Jessica, they were sweet and innocent in their actions. Some stood at the long tables laden with foreign foods and wines, while others stood chatting at the Main Entrance that had led into the ballroom, "It's so beautiful," I whispered, speaking for the first time that entire evening, but everyone ignored me-- as per usual, "The prince, Mother! The prince. I just saw him!" Jessica shrieked, clapping her gloved hands in excitement.

_Dunce, _I thought, _The prince would rather marry a rat from the sewers... _especially _if he is as handsome as they say; _I laughed at my own private joke, and seizing my chance, I wandered away from them, I pulled the dress away from my ribs, as they were being crushed, just as the prince entered the ballroom; my heart froze; he was _gorgeous; _tall, with wide-set shoulders, short, curly black hair, and green eyes; he was the hottest guy I had ever seen; _He was a Prince Charming, all right! _I couldn't believe I was staring-- but then again, _everyone _was. It wasn't like I was the only one.

He caught my stare, and offered me a warm, genuine smile; I returned the smile, and blushed a deep magenta color-- and then I remembered my appearance, and the fact that I could no longer breathe... _Damn! The dress is too tight! _I couldn't fucking breathe, and the prince was walking here and there, shaking hands; sometimes bowing to his more important guests; _He's almost here! Fuck! What could I do? Take the dress off... but was I willing to strip down to my bra and underwear in front of everyone? _But it was cutting off my oxygen supply; I couldn't stay here all night; it was no good! And in one moment, just as the prince had offered his hand to me, I had fallen to the floor, unable to breathe; made unconscious.

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I woke up some time later in what I supposed to be a spare bedroom in the palace-- usually reserved for traveling courtiers and such, _not _fainting girls. I was lying in a bed, under some scratchy blankets; a young mad sat in a chair beside me, and only when I had fully come to did I recognize him to be the prince.

"Your Highness," I said, dryly; wishing that the ball had been a dream-- a _very bad _dream.

"Yes," he chuckled, as if we'd just gone out for an afternoon stroll, "I thought you might have slipped away from us, and gone into heaven-- but, you would not have needed to change at all. You already look like an angel."

I blushed, "Thank you," I replied, and although his comment had been quite corny, underneath the circumstances, it was quite forgivable-- he was actually very sweet, and I had taken a liking to him.

And then, I realized that about ninety percent of my body underneath the sheets was totally naked, "I'm not presentable," I said, trying to sound casually, although I said it in a high-pitched, panicky whisper.

He nodded, "I know. That dress you were wearing tonight... I'd say it was about five sizes too small. It had to be cut off with a pair of kitchen shears. _We _couldn't even get it off the normal way."

I grimaced; I could have died! Not _only _was I lying there ten percent dressed, but he had actually seen me as well!

"Don't worry," he whispered, seeing my horrified face, "I did not see that much, after all."

I forced a laugh, and just as I was about to inquire as to how long I'd been knocked out, the door to the bedroom opened, and one of the maids of the palace entered; carrying a lovely ball-gown, "She might like this," she said, gesturing towards me, as if I weren't there, and then handing it to the prince. He took it from her, and presented it to me, as she bustled out of the door, "And what am I to do with this?" I asked, touching the smooth satin that made up the gown, "Put it on, of course," he whispered, dryly.

"Not while you're still here, I'd hope," I whispered, stupidly, still trying to sound casual-- although I wasn't pulling it off very well.

"Don't worry, I can see that you seek privacy-- and I don't blame you at all," he stood up, and made to leave the room, "By the way-- your family... Might I be so bold in saying that you do not look like them at _all," _he meant this as a compliment, and I smiled.

" '_Family?' " _I scoffed, "Sir, if they were my family, I'm afraid I would look like very much like a pig-- and act like one as well."

He stared at me.

"I was rude," I whispered, surprised at what I had just said in front of someone who was practically a mere stranger.

"Pardoned of course in the circumstances," he winked, "they _did, _of course seem very concerned with your well-being."

"My_ 'well-being?' " _I asked, beginning to laugh, "Now _that's _unbelievable, _and _unexpected!"

He chuckled, and left me alone in my room.

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I checked how I looked about fifty times in the golden-framed mirror that hung on the wall, before leaving the room again; the gown was silvery-blue, and it reminded me of the one I had worn throughout all those dreams I had had months ago in the oasis; I thought I looked pretty gorgeous, although I was missing some good jewelry-- though that could be excused.

Taking in a deep breath, and hoping that I would not be noticed-- and further embarrassed, I opened the door, and stepped outside into the hallway, finding that I stood in front of a very long flight of stairs.

I walked down the grand staircase, and to my disappointment, I found that it led directly to the ballroom, so there was no time for me to attempt to make a quiet entrance-- there was no time to prepare, and everyone was already staring at me-- so it would be equally risky to run back into the guest bedroom. As I went down, I heard some say, _"It's that girl that fell. Poor thing, I heard she got all excited over meeting his Highness, and…" _or _"She looks like an angel…" _or: my personal favorite, _"Look, Mother! It's that loon they say fainted!" _

My face instantly reddened; I could not believe my luck-- why did the staircase have to lead directly to all of the people who had seen my gown mishap?

But, thankfully, my descent was soon complete, and I was able to disappear into the crowd of guests; I looked over at the table that held all of the prince's gifts; I found that the jar of jam had been shoved behind some of the grander presents. I saw that my "family" had crowded around the long table, looking sulky and sullen; the girl was crying, because, supposedly, as I learned later, when she had been dancing with some foreign fourth cousin of the prince, she had sweated off all of the pancake powder from her face, and he had left, after having noticed the shining bruise, and it served her right for having been such a skiving, conniving little whore, so when I learned this, I merely shrugged it off. What goes around comes around.

Another number was started up by the orchestra, I noticed that the prince was now dancing with a girl at least twice his age-- I noted that he did not seem too pleased with the awkward pairing, and I laughed to myself, as the clock struck twelve, because I had not realized how long I had been "in the valley of the dead." The prince looked annoyed, yet somewhat mystified-- I wondered if it was because of me; I ducked behind another guest to avoid his stare as he looked into my direction, and when he had finally broke away from the girl, I saw him speaking to someone who appeared to be his father. They were deep in thought.

A hand grasped my shoulder; it was the man-- he had noticed that I had returned to the ballroom,"We're leaving," he whispered; his voice no longer sweet, but cold, and angry. I rolled my eyes, "Not the little kiss ass now, are we?" I asked, and then I felt his grip on my shoulder tighten, "Don't touch me," I hissed, shrugging his hand away. I followed them into the carriage-- his wife and daughter joined us on the way out, and we did not speak at all, and the carriage was filled with macabre silence all the way back to the mansion.

At least they weren't acting sweet anymore.


	26. THE SECOND NIGHT: Proposal

_Chapter 25: THE SECOND NIGHT OF THE BALL: Proposal _

It had been a dream. That was for certain, as _nothing _like that could have actually happened to me... It had been a _wonderful _dream, however; not a nightmare. It had been a dream that I would most definitely remember with love and fondness perhaps for years on end, as opposed to the fear I would associate with the other dreams. _But if only it could come true, _I thought stretching; knowing that I was back in the forest. I stood up, and felt my head bump on the sloping attic ceiling with a loud _THUMP!... _I was back. I was back, and that meant that I was still a slave. I groaned loudly; the forest would be better than being stuck here!

And at least the forest was pretty silent-- for the most part; I made a grimace as the shouting match that was going on downstairs at last reached my ears; _So, _that's _what woke me up, _I realized, _"It's not fair!" _the girl was screaming; her voice was even more shrill and squeaky than usual; _She must have been at it all day, _I realized, rolling my eyes, and then laughing at the notion of the spoiled brat not getting her way-- for once. What a day this was turning out to be!

I had to strain my ears to hear the next part; I'd never liked eavesdropping. Jacqueline had done it _extremely _well-- one of the only things she'd been good at, unless you count being a murderous whore-- and besides, this was a special circumstance, "Shh, honey," the man was cooing; obviously trying to get her to calm down, "You'll wake dear Beatr--"

"**_LIKE I CARE!" _**she suddenly roared; taken aback at her tone, I wanted to run downstairs, and just smack her-- the _nerve _of her! Couldn't she keep it down for once? I groaned, angrily, and shook my head wildly to get a few strands of straw out of it.

"But, Jessica, if she doesn't go tonight--"

"_What? The Prince doesn't get to marry her, and she gets to live happily ever after? That's tosh! This is _not fair, _and you _know _it!"_

After hearing this, it all of it suddenly came back to me; I had exited the forest, and had come back... which meant... yesterday's happenings _hadn't _been a mere dream! I looked down at the rest of my body; I was still wearing my ball-gown, and that meant that the prince _hadn't _been a figment of my imagination. He was a reality, and he was most likely in love with me. It was all so wonderful; I sighed hopefully, and stood up.

I was beaming. Simply beaming. I crawled out of the attic, and ran downstairs. They were now eating breakfast, and were acting as if nothing had happened-- as if there had been no conflict at all, but I didn't give a damn. They didn't matter. They never had, and they never would. I found that they were now eating breakfast, and I felt like punching them all out, just for kicks; that's how much energy I had. They ignored me, and pretending I hadn't heard the argument only minutes before, I sat down, and without one word exchanged, I began to eat.

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I stared at myself in the mirror as I got ready for the second night of the ball that evening. Jessica was on the offensive; she had been shooting dirty looks at me all day long, as I had gotten ready; _I look_ _magnificent, _I realized, spraying myself with a few drops of the only decent-smelling perfume in the whole mansion, _And everything is going to change now._

"You look beautiful," a nasal voice whispered from behind me-- it could only belong to Jessica.

"Thank you?" I asked, annoyed, and turning to face her; almost surprised by her fakeness, "What do you want?" I added, after a moment's pause.

She was obviously offended by my attitude, "Well, I thought I'd return this moth-ridden old thing to you," she pulled the stone from within her dress-pocket, and handed it to me, looking sulky; her mother or father had obviously put her up to it. I had nearly forgotten that she had taken it; I snatched it back, though, "It's about time," I grumbled; angry at her for having even taken it in the first place.

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Hours later, I was back; back at the _only _place where I actually felt completely safe, and happy in all of D'Nalge; the palace. But this time, I didn't look like a joke upon my arrival, because I was wearing the beautiful ball-gown that the prince had given me, and I had been able to put some make-up on. I actually felt beautiful again.

_But where was he? Where was the prince?_

I immediately suspected that he had been waiting for me, because when I at first caught sight of him, he immediately jumped up, and came over to me; he took my hand in his, led me into the ballroom, and we began to dance-- no questions asked. I had never been happier in D'Nalge; _especially _after I had seen the look of deep disdain on my "family's" faces. He just made me feel so loved and wonderful.

Time flew by; the clock struck nine, then ten, and then eleven. But we did not stop dancing; we kept on going, as if it were our last chance to be together, and at around eleven forty-five, we _finally _stopped because his steward or grand advisor stepped in between the two of us, held up his hand, and said, "Your Highness, it is time."

The prince gave me one of his warm smiles, let go of my hand, and turned to face the steward, "Already?" he asked; his voice full of nervousness.

The steward nodded, and led the prince away to a tall golden throne that sat on the far right side of his room; the King sat beside him on a throne nearly identical, and nodded his head towards the prince, who immediately got everyone's attention by clapping his hands together three times, "The ball," he began; speaking with more confidence and sureness with each syllable, "led a double purpose; both to celebrate my recent adulthood-- my eighteenth year, while the other was for me to choose a bride."

My heart instantly began pounding, for I knew what was coming now, "At first I was skeptical; _could _one find love so quickly-- _was _there such a thing as what they call 'love at first sight?' But, when I met her, I knew that everything was true. I am in love, so the decision on whom I should make my bride-- and future Queen was quite easy."

I heard many people throughout the room asking "Who?" Jessica actually gasped, and my gaze found her standing by the table of refreshments; busily drinking what appeared to be her seventh goblet of wine; the bitch was drunk; _Serves her right, _I thought, suppressing a mad fit of giggles, as she slopped a bit of the maroon liquid down her dress.

The girl stared at me, coldly, and I had to clench my teeth to avoid the urge to slap her; drunk or not, she deserved it, "And my choice is-- is-- well, this is embarrassing..." he paused, and met my eyes, "I do not even know her name. But she knows who she is. I met her last night, and ever since that _memorable _moment," I blushed deeply, "I have not been able to keep my thoughts away from her," by now, each and every one of the people in the room was staring at me; the color in my cheeks darkened, "What is your name, fair maiden?" he asked, standing up, and beginning to walk towards me.

"Beatrice," I whispered.

He took my hands in his, and kissed me; my heart pounded ever still, "I love you," he whispered, "and I cannot imagine a life without your love." Some clapped, while others continued to stare.

I looked into his eyes, and my heart melted, "Do you accept?" he asked.

I didn't know what to do.

I didn't know what to say.

It was so unexpected.

It was so unpredictable; after everything that had happened to me since coming to D'Nalge, this...? It was just so strange, but I nodded my head, knowing the possibilities; I could leave, be protected-- _love, _even.

He smiled, and kissed me again.

Little did I know that my good fortune was soon to end.

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I said goodbye to the prince at around one thirty in the morning, and followed my "family" outside, and into the carriage. They were murmuring inaudible whispers, and I didn't bother trying to hear what they were saying to each other.

I didn't care. I never had, actually.

But something about this night was _strange... _I felt something watching me all the way home, and I couldn't help but wonder if I would be safe.


	27. THE THIRD NIGHT: Confrontation

_Chapter 25: THE THIRD NIGHT OF THE BALL: Confrontation_

The third night...

The third evening of the ball began quite similar to the previous two... although it would end quite differently. I took my time getting ready, and then we went outside into the cool night air, and stepped into the waiting carriage. Everyone was giving me the silent treatment-- as if they thought I would take offense, but what can I say? It was actually _quite _refreshing. And as opposed to the other nights, I carried with me all of my worldly possessions, as instructed by the prince-- my _fiancé _the previous evening-- it was still so difficult to believe that I was engaged! But the small golden band I wore around my finger served as a constant reminder; when Jessica had seen it, she had actually grown _green _with envy. I had merely laughed silently, and had ignored her...

_This is everything I've ever wanted, _I realized, watching Jessica step into the carriage; her bruise ever shining; _No more pain, _I realized; beaming, "Get in, Beatrice dear," she suddenly whispered; I got into the carriage, and rolled my eyes at her false kindness; _What is she? Bipolar? _I thought, as the carriage started up, and then began to speed away from the house-- I gave Jessica a dirty look once her back was turned, and suddenly, my "family" was acting _very _strange now; all nice and friendly-- _too _nice and friendly, actually, following her suit, on the way to the palace, I was given comments on my hair, my makeup, and even my dress; now that we were out of the house, Jessica was acting all giggly (miraculously cured from her drunkenness the previous evening, and massive hangover this morning), while the pig-woman and her mate were constantly glancing back at me on the way to the palace; as if checking in on me-- to make sure I hadn't vanished in a puff of smoke, "Why are we going so fast?" I called, trying to keep my hair up in a bun, though the rush of wind from outside was greatly attempting to stop this.

No answer.

Well, that was expected, but couldn't they just attempt to answer an honest question for _once?_-- this _was _their last chance, after all, andwell, I was going to be answered, "Why are we going so fast?" I repeated.

"Why, Beatrice dear," Pig-Woman gushed from the front of the carriage, pausing to turn around, and smile at me, "don't _you _want to see the prince tonight?" and she did something _too _unexpected; she winked at me, sending shudders up my spine.

Jessica just giggled, and took a fan from out of her pocket, and began fanning herself like mad.

And when we got there... I had to yank out of the twit's arm; she had linked arms with me as if were some stupid children playing some sick and pointless game.

Having rescued myself, I began to run away from her, and up the palace steps, while hearing her shrieking at the top of her voice something like: "Ta! Do invite to the wedding! I could be the bridesmaid. After all, I _do _look oh so pretty in pink!"

"And to think I once liked that movie," I scoffed to myself as I entered the ballroom, and began the search for my fiancé, _At least _that's _the last I'll be seeing of her, _I thought with great happiness as I wandered further into the ballroom, and saw a few familiar faces-- mainly those who had laughed and pointed after I had made a recovery from fainting.

But, always the reliable prince, he was able to find me first, "Hello," he whispered, taking my hand in his.

He was as handsome as ever, and my face instantly lit up at the sight of him, "Hey," I replied, looking over my shoulder to make sure I had at last lost them; something about tonight was amiss; the wind was blowing too harshly-- there was something foul in the air; my heart sped. I felt uneasy, "Can we go somewhere else? I--"

And then I cut myself off; I saw that he was not as happy as he had been the previous two nights; he seemed troubled-- frightened-- shaken, "What's wrong?" I asked, concerned, as he squeezed my hand.

"It's nothing," he whispered; clearly lying, and then, "I suppose you haven't heard," he obviously said this to try to change the atmosphere.

"Heard what?" I asked, skeptically, as I realized that all of the rest of the guests were behaving rather strangely as well; their staring skills had seemed to heighten, as had their whisperings, "Heard what?" I repeated, as he had not yet provided me with an answer.

"That everyone has been wondering where exactly you came from-- It's almost like you just crawled right out of the woods or something."

"You'd be surprised," I laughed, trying to shake off the uneasiness of being watched-- but not just by the guests... there was something else, "Look," I whispered, "can we go somewhere...? The eyes..."

I drifted off, unsure of the reason.

"I just love your sense of humor," he whispered, squeezing my hand again, and ignoring my second comment. He was uneasy; he obviously didn't want to leave the comfort of the ballroom. _But what was going on tonight...? _I still couldn't put my finger on it-- maybe he would know, "Look, what's wrong with--"

"What a lovely bride this young lady will make for thee," a voice suddenly interrupted from somewhere behind us.

"Excuse me, Miss," the prince began, turning to face the woman who had spoken, "but, do I know you?"

"I do not believe so, Your Highness. As to be so bold, you are the most handsome fellow I've ever laid eyes on."

"Why thank you," he replied; obviously having dealt with people like this before.

I spun around; that voice was so familiar to me, and yet I simply could not place it... it was as if I had not heard it speak in _years._

"No offense in my boldness, I presume?" she asked.

"None taken, my dear. Now, if you would excuse me...?"

I stared at her; the woman was now standing beside my fiancé, trying to make small talk.

I had never seen her before, and yet she was strangely familiar to me; her face was kind and good natured, and she wore her orange hair in two tight braids-- She looked exactly like an adult-version of that annoying Girl-Scout who used to live down the street from me-- the one who had always tried to sell me her stupid cookies... I had _hated _that girl.

"I'm Claire," she said, noticing that I was gawking at her, as she extended a hand for me to shake.

I chose not to take it, "Charmed," I lied, as the music began, and a few of the couples began to dance.

"If you would excuse us," he said, turning to face me again, and extending his arm, "Shall we?" he asked, as I wrung my hands nervously.

I remained silent; I was beginning to sweat... There was something bad about tonight, and I couldn't stand it anymore, "Shall we?" he asked, once again, as I put my hand to my forehead, and found that it was burning hot.

"I'd rather not," I answered, truthfully, feeling my face flush, as 'Claire' began looking me up and down; my heart was, for some strange reason, trying to force its way out of my chest-- as if it felt threatened by this harmless thing.

"Do you feel faint, my Beatrice?" he asked me, concerned.

"No," I replied, though nothing could be farther from the truth, as the room was beginning to spin, "I think I just need to sit down and cool down for a while; you go out and dance... Have a good time."

"Are you _sure _you're all right?" he asked, looking at me as if I were mad.

"I'll go call a doctor," Claire said, with mock concern, beginning to run off in the other direction; her creamy gown bouncing up and down as she went.

"Please don't," I called after her, causing her to stop dead in her tracks, "I'm fine..." I repeated, offering him a kind smile, although it was rather easy to tell that it had been forced; I stared deeper into his eyes, _"Really," _I said, reassuringly, "I just need to sit down for a bit."

By this time, Claire had made quite a bold move; she had linked arms with my fiancé saying, "I'll just stay here, and keep Princey company," she batted her stupid eyebrows, and I rolled my eyes, as I turned my back to her; determined to find someplace where I could sit down.

Problem was-- there was absolutely no where to sit, so as an alternative, I stood in a corner, looking quite stupid instead.

_What's wrong with me? _I wondered, returning my gaze to Claire, only to find her commenting on the weather, _Who is she...? Who can she possibly be? _My head was pounding; I needed some aspirin, but _of course, _this was the nineteenth century-- _and _an alternate universe; there simply was not any aspirin to be found anywhere. I still wanted some though.

"Are you the bride to be?" someone suddenly asked, pulling me out of my dream-world.

I turned around, almost annoyed by the intrusion; I find a small girl-- no older than seven staring at me, "Yes," I replied, my voice hardly higher than a steady whisper.

She ran away, all giggles; Jessica suddenly approached me, "Oh," I said, disappointed, "It's _you."_

She ignored me, "My regards," she said, holding up her glass to me, and then draining it in a single sip; I forgot about Claire for a second, _"Really now?" _I asked, "Haven't you had enough?" for Jessica could barely stand.

"No matter," she replied, waving her hand, "No matter," she held the glass up to her lips, and then remembering it was empty, dropped it to the floor... (and nearly followed it, for that matter). I laughed, "Where is he?" she demanded, standing up on her tiptoes. _Stop tempting me, _I thought, feeling the urge to push her.

"Hold your horses," I replied, "he's right over there," I pointed towards the table; he was still trying to ignore Claire's conversational starters.

I stared at Claire long and hard, trying to place her, and then she let out a laugh, _Wait a minute,_ I thought,_ I _know _that laugh!_

"Is he or isn't he a hunk?" Jessica suddenly asked, heaving a heavy sigh.

"Sure," I whispered, beginning to run back towards the table.

When I finally arrived, I was too late, for my fiancé has already fallen to the floor, and the ballroom has gone all quiet-- as if someone had hit the Mute button-- total silence, and then the panic began: "Is he dead?" "Where's a doctor?" "Is he out cold yet?"

A crowd had quickly formed around his lifeless body, and I began to fight my way into the center; Claire had already disappeared, and my eyes filled with tears; _She's gotten away again, _I thought, panicked, _She's taken another loved one away, and she won't answer for it..._

"**_JACQUELINE!" _**I suddenly screamed, deciding to let it all out; everyone was staring at me. There was silence once again, and I easily spotted her in the crowd; her flaming red hair was easy to spot, after all; I felt my hands clenching into fists on their own accord, as she began to laugh at me, disappearing, and then reappearing directly beside my fiancé's body.

She shook her braids away, and she is now the Jacqueline I know and loathe once again; complete with her plait of blonde hair gently bouncing against her small shoulders.

"A shaska!" some random person in the ballroom screamed, panicked.

The ballroom quickly emptied out as the guests began to flee for their lives; they were obviously cowards, but it didn't matter. It was actually better this way.

I am all alone with Jacqueline, as I have dreamt it.

"Dead as a doornail," she said, holding his lifeless hand, and then allowing it to drop to the marble floor once again, "he was rather handsome, wasn't he?" she patted his bloodless face, "A pity," her eyes fell upon me once again, "You've grown my child," she whispered, looking me up and down, "You look just like your mother; say hello to her for me," her eyes fell upon the stone around my neck; it flashed white for a moment, as if spurned by her cold look, "Old magic will not save you now."

I ignored her comment; it was meaningless to me, "How could you?" I asked, my voice a hiss, "Why him? Why not me?"

"My dear Beatrice, you don't honestly believe that I came here just to kill Princey, do you?" she paused, "Do you?" she repeated.

"I love him, and you took him away."

"Did you now? Did you really love him? Or was it just for the protection? Well, listen up, girl. There is _no _protection in this world-- or any other world."

"Fuck you," I hissed, "Why have you done this to me? Why can't you stay away?"

"Oh, I never tire of you," she laughed, "that's why I sent you here. To--"

"He was my fiancé, and you took him away just like that-- on a whim," my head was still spinning.

"Don't get all anal about it," she said, standing up; her beautiful white ball gown glowing eerily.

"I hate you," I hissed.

"Lots of people do," she said, simply.

_There has to be a way... _I thought, _There has to be a way..._

"Don't you see it? Haven't you seen this night for months? I've been waiting for this moment, Beatrice. It's time," she slipped a hand into her dress-pocket, and pulled out the silver comb I had seen long ago, and once in a dream, "It's still beautiful, isn't it?" she asked, brandishing it as if it were a sword, "But looks often deceive, don't they?"

"You-- you--" but for once, I was at a loss for words; I approached her, rigid with anger or fear-- I'm not sure which. The room is gone-- This _is _it; this is the moment I've been waiting for ever since she first entered my home when I was twelve years old.

I slapped the comb out of her hands, and it fell to the floor, clattering noisily, "No weapons, bitch," I said, and I slapped her smartly across the face.

She laughed, "You're bold, my child," she whispered, "but you're not _strong _enough," and she slapped me across the face; my face was burning and I fell to the floor, "Say goodbye to life, Beatrice..."

"**_NEVER!" _**I screamed, and as a last defense, my fingers formed claws, and I began scratching at her face; leaving long bloody streaks, as she bent over to finish the job.

She backed away from me, and laughed; touching her face, and instantly healing the skin.

"**_YOU CUNT!" _**I screamed directly into her face, and hearing my harsh words bouncing off of the empty walls; I jumped up off the floor. She wasn't going to kill me. Not today. Not ever.

She slapped me across the face once again, "Pull yourself together, Beatrice. I'm through with these child's games."

"**_NO!" _**I screamed, "It's time for you to burn in hell!" and I grabbed at her face, and began pulling at it; the skin melted away like taffy, and blood oozed out onto my pale hands, staining them red, and reminding me of the juice of that apple that had sent me to D'Nalge all that time ago. Jacqueline screamed as he worst fear was made a reality-- her true inner ugliness had been revealed. The face of the shaska... The face that haunts my dreams to this day; the thin skin pulled tightly over a skull-like face, the empty eyes deprived of beauty-- the thin green lips-- the forked tongue.

She spoke again; her voice was little more than a very low hiss now, "You will pay for that, little girl," she whispered, "You will pay," her creamy dress was now stained with blood-- from both of us; I had noticed that I was bleeding as well from the wounds on both of my cheeks. It was now or never. There was little time to waste formulating a plan.

Her lips had begun forming foreign words-- unknown meanings to me; my blood began to run cold... I was dying; _A spell, _I realized, dumbly, _Death... _I suddenly screamed, and pushed her away from me; she fell to the floor, trying to get the comb back in her possession; I was now on top of her; I wasn't going to die. She was, "Looking for this?" I asked, holding the comb only inches away from her chest; she screamed at me in foreign tongues, but the spell had no affect; I plunged the smoking comb into her heart not once but for times; once for my mother, once for my father, once for my fairy godmother, and lastly for my fiancé.

When it is over, she is little more than a bloody pulp of filthy beneath me.

She is dead now. She is gone forever.

I stood up, and smiled triumphantly, as her form slowly faded away; she was gone for good. The poisoned comb-- or whatever it was that had been meant to kill me slipped out of my hands, and fell to the floor. My grin widened, and I fell to the floor in a dead faint.


	28. Recovery

_Chapter 27: Recovery _

I supposedly slept for over a week... or, at least that's what my bumbling nurse told me as she changed my sheets one evening after I had woken up; who knew if her word could be trusted...? I would describe her appearance, but I think it an unimportant matter.

I later learned that the prince had been buried between his grandmother and mother in the Royal Cemetery, and I had been declared a "national hero" throughout the land of D'Nalge; supposedly, there had been some great ceremony held by the townspeople that had declared me a "hero," but I had pretended to be sleeping again when my bumbling nurse ran in to tell me to change my filthy clothes, so I missed the ceremony-- had there even been one.

Life became meaningless again; I slept little, I ate little, and I got up to go to the bathroom every now and then. I did enough just to survive, and Jacqueline's words continued to haunt me: _Had _I loved the prince...? I could not answer the frightening question, and many nights while I was chained to stay in my bed, I cried for the loss of my fiancé... whom I could at least _say _I had loved-- even if I hadn't. After all, he had given me love, and promise for a better future.

Sometime during the month that I was confined to my bed, the family decided to visit me in all of my misery.

"Still sulking, are we, Beatrice?" Jessica asked; they smiled false smiles, and I felt like ripping their ugly little mouths right off; I offered her a polite nod to her meaningless question, and gave them each cold stares in turn, "Why have you come here?" I asked, angrily, "Haven't you already had your fill of the palace and all its glory?" I scoffed, and bit back tears as the memories of my prince's corpse filled my mind.

Pig-Woman just continued to smile her dammed smile, and I heard Jessica snapping at her mother (under her breath), "One hundred gold coins..."

"What the fuck are you on about?" I suddenly asked; my voice calm, and yet fierce.

Jessica seemed stunned with my sudden "outburst;" her jaw nearly dropped to the floor, and her eyes narrowed in anger.

"Nothing, Beatrice dear," Pig-Woman snapped; trying to sound believable-- although there could be nothing further from it.

"Liar," I hissed, my eyes flashing dangerously, "in my new status," I could have all three of you easily. So, tell me the truth, or it will be war upon you all."

She swallowed hard, and for once, the idiotic smile was wiped off of her face.

"Well, honey," the man began, "It was the night you left, and-- and--"

"And a lady cloaked all in black knocked at our door," the girl suddenly chimed in, "She was acting very strange, and said that she couldn't come inside, though we politely invited her in on first glance."

I rolled my eyes; this was _highly _doubtful to believe.

"And she promised us all a hundred gold coins if we would be able to bring you to her unharmed," the woman went on, taking on the task of continuing her daughter's sick story.

"I went out looking for you in the morning as instructed; after all, she seemed pretty keen on being reunited with you-- she told us all that she was your mother from the other world."

"So, we brought you to the ball," the girl added, "and it was _three nights of anticipation! _Three nights of waiting for our reward to be had at last…"

"And you actually sunk to that level?" I asked, truly bewildered by the final statement, "You _willingly _brought me to a near death? It's all your faults that I'm stuck here, while my prince is dead forever."

"Your prince?" the girl asked, angrily, as her eyebrows curled, "_Your prince?" _she asked once again, more skeptical, "Curse you," she hissed, "It was _you _who took away my prince, and my fortune, and now you will pay!" she approached me, and her hands began to choke me.

"Get off of her!" the man suddenly screamed, dragging her off of me.

"I don't need your false sentiment or whatever you want to call it," I hissed; Jessica was now panting, "You people will burn in hell for what you've made me endure!" I screamed, now gasping for breath as well, "All of you. Each and every one! If you do not leave my room, I will beat each and every one of you to a bloody pulp if necessary. I'm not scared of any of you. Out!"

A pause.

"Now, listen here, Beatrice," the man started, obviously trying to sound reasonable, "We took you in from the cold, we gave you shelter-- A hot meal every night; caring company."

I scoffed, "Took me in? I'll give you that."

"We've just come here for our pay back, Miss-- for what is owed to us. A hundred gold coins, and you'll never see us again."

"A hundred gold coins _each," _Jessica chimed in.

I laughed at their stupidity, "If you bastards think you're getting _anything _from me, then you've got another thing coming. Guards! Take these people away! I've never seen them before in my life."

And then, to my astonishment, a pair of guards entered the room, and hurried the three pigs away from me... and out of the castle for that matter.

Thankfully, this is the last time I ever see the three of them in my life. Hopefully, they're all dead by now...

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Before long-- about another week, I'd say, I was told that I was at last well enough to return home; the following morning, for that matter... I was given bags of jewels, and many thanks for being so very brave-- and at last killing what was thought to be the "unkillable." Now, there was hope throughout the land of a better future for all. The shaska were obviously vulnerable. They could obviously die as mortals do.

At around six o'clock, the door opened, and the King entered; I was shocked to see him, "Your majesty," I whispered, as he took a chair across the room from me, and inquired of my health. We chatted, avoiding the subject of his son's untimely and unfair death all the while.

An hour passed, and just before he left, he kissed me on both cheeks-- a tender, fatherly gesture, and he told me that I would always be welcome back to D'Nalge, and I thanked him; he at last thanks me for ridding the land of his son's slayer; I am unsure of the reason, but I begin to cry once again.

Maybe it's because I've at last been forgiven.


	29. The Prophecy

_Chapter 28: The Prophecy _

The rest of the day flashed before my very eyes in a colorful blur, and before I knew it, it was evening again; a cold midnight was approaching... I shivered, as a gust of wind whistled through the open window; and although I knew it would be a good idea, I was too saddened to get up and close it.

As the clock struck twelve, I began to wonder where I could possibly go when I would awaken in the morning; obviously, I couldn't just stay in D'Nalge; it would be far too painful, and the thought of remaining there frightened me more than everything that could possibly ever occur to me, but there was nowhere for me to go, and there was no way out of D'Nalge that I knew of; Jacqueline had sent me here-- but she sure as hell hadn't given me directions on how to go back... Everything about me had changed since then. My eyes became heavy with tears, and I began to weep bitterly as I realized how much I missed home.

The room was quickly becoming colder still-- _frigid, _yet, I could not manage to stand up, walk towards, the window, and shut it again; something strange was beginning to go on, though; the wind moaned loudly, and I could hear a strange voice whispering my name, _Beatrice, Beatrice… come with me…" _

"W-who's there?" I called out into the empty darkness; I could feel someone sitting on my bed, a cool hand began wiping sweat off of my brow. I then realized that the cold presence was my fairy godmother, and her form appeared right before my watery eyes.

"Fairy Godmother," I breathed a sigh of relief, and her hands ceased their wiping; I smiled up at her, and did not know whether to laugh or cry; she returned the smile-- only bitterly, "You have suffered, but, Beatrice, it's time for you to go home now," she whispered.

I shook my head gently, "But I do not know the way."

"You needn't know the way," she whispered.

"Then take me home," I replied, almost pleadingly.

"Soon," she whispered, standing up, "Beatrice, you've been strong... and yet, I now fear, you may not be strong enough to continue fighting this battle."

"Battle?" I asked, now stumped, "All that I did was kill Jacqueline... There was no--"

"The prophecy," she interrupted; her voice still barely audible,**_ " 'IN THE TIME OF THE NEW MILLENNIA, A BATTLE BETWEEN GOOD AND WICKED SHALL BE FOUGHT. IT'S VICTOR WILL BE AN ORPHANED GIRL; PALE OF FACE, LIPS OF RED, AND BLACK OF HAIR. BUT THIS SHALL NOT BE THE END, FOR THE SLAYING OF THE SHASKA WILL SET OFF A GREAT CHAIN OF REACTIONS… THUS ENDING IN THE DEATH OF A WORLD. ' "_**

I shuddered. What did it mean? A prophecy...? It just didn't make sense. I didn't want to believe it, but I did; danger was still everywhere. That was for sure. I was still not safe; I never would be.

There was a long silence between the both of us, finally ending with the obvious question from me, "But _which _world?" I asked, "Mine?"

Her blue eyes showed me that she did not know the answer to this puzzling question, "You must be strong," she whispered, as if I did not know this already, "You _must _be strong."

Another strong gust of wind blew in through the open window, causing the curtains to flutter, and I shivered once again. I still had so many questions to ask of her, but I knew that I would have to find the answers to them through the inevitable journey that lay ahead, "Take me home," I plead, as the stone around my neck glowed, slightly.

"Take my hand," she whispered. I nodded, and took one of her pale cold hands; the room disappeared, and I was spinning around in endless darkness.


	30. Home

_Chapter 29: Home _

Before long, the darkness disappeared, and I found myself, once again, inside the forest; the sun was beginning to rise, and the forest was filled with the sounds of singing birds. I looked down at my clothes, and found that I was now dressed quite casually; I could not recall if I had still been wearing the ball-gown when Elaine had sent me away from D'Nalge; I had also forgotten all of the jewels that the King had given to me, but it was of little importance. I was alone. Again. I realized that I would probably be alone for a very long time; Elaine could not remain at my side forever, after all. I smiled, recognizing the familiar surroundings; I was standing in front of my fairy godmother's cottage. I now knew the way home; I fingered the stone around my neck for strength (at least that bitch, Jessica had had the sense to give it back to me), and without a second thought on the matter, I walked into the cottage, for its door still stood open; just as I had left it all those months ago.

I find that it has not changed since my absence; although my fairy godmother's body is now gone from the floor; I pause at the spot where it had lain, and can't help but wonder if Jacqueline-- or another shaska-- for I knew that there were many, had taken it. I entered the closet, and stepped through the wall, and into the attic that had kept me safe from Jacqueline before... _My _attic. _Home... _I left the attic, and began walking down the stairs... Someone had attempted to scrub the bloodstains from off the floor, but to no avail; the carpet was still stained with my father's blood, and I knew that it would remain there forever.

The house is pretty much the same. I smiled bitterly... It had been five years since that night when my life had been changed forever; there were cobwebs _everywhere; _the place had obviously not been sold yet...

I doubted that it ever would.

I did not know what to do now; there was much to do-- but so little time to do it in; for all I knew, the world as I now knew it could change once again tomorrow. I had to try to live. I had to attempt to heal. I knew that I could not stay here, though. I fingered the stone around my neck for strength once again, and stepped out of the house, and into the golden sunshine that foiled how I felt inside... but all the same, _I was home._

**To be continued in:  
Beatrice, Book II: Identity**


End file.
